Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire
by sockyferret
Summary: In her senior year of high school, Claire is realizing she may have more feelings for Quil than just brotherly love. From Claire's POV. Rated T for language, some sexuality, and excessive use of sarcasm.
1. School Pictures

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter One: School Pictures  
Claire's POV

Disclaimer: Don't own nothing you recognize.

* * *

I continually went over what best way to play the situation off as I walked home. It was raining, of course, and several people I knew drove past me on their own way home from school, but none stopped to offer me a ride. Most of them had tried this before and had gotten a lecture from me about polluting the environment, and had since learned not to offer. 

Of course, it was times like these that made me want to reconsider my stance on environmental protection. Why should I give a damn about an environment that clearly – I glared at the rain clouds and promptly got rain in my eye – did not give a damn about me?

I briefly considered taking advantage of the downpour by "accidentally" dropping the packet in my hands into a puddle, successfully ruining its contents. But my mother knew me better than that by now. Even if she didn't, I was a terrible liar.

"Damn school pictures!" I said aloud to the rain. I attempted to kick a rock that I misjudged in weight and size and succeeded only in hurting my toes. I hopped up and down dramatically for a moment, clutching my injured foot, before continuing my miserable trek home.

And that what was in the packet in my hands, wrapped carefully in plastic by my history teacher who knew I would be walking home and also knew it was likely to rain on me. Wrapped carefully in plastic to protect those precious school pictures. The ones that were the source of my problem for today.

Most kids didn't like school pictures. Probably because you could tell that the photographer really didn't care how they turned out, that he was just trying to squeak by until he got a job with National Geographic or something. Or maybe because one always looked as if one had just swallowed a large dosage of ipecac and was fighting a losing battle at trying to prevent it from doing its job. Either way, most kids didn't like them. But as for me, I loathed them.

Never in my entire school career, from kindergarten up until now, had I ever had a good school picture. Ever. And this year, my senior year, when I was finally supposed to look mature and grown up…well, this one was the icing on my crap-filled cake.

And the worst part was I had to take it home to show my mother. Who would no doubt act as if I'd held up the Taco Del Mar.

So I was taking the time on my way home from school (a.k.a. The Hell Hole of the Pacific Northwest) to try and figure out how to break it to her gently.

By the time I'd reached my family's small but comforting house, no great plan had come to mind. I sighed dejectedly, hoping that I could at least make it upstairs to change out of my soaking wet clothes before I had to show her.

No such luck. As soon as I stepped inside the house, my mother swooped in on me, screeching, "Don't drip on the carpet!" as if me coming home more than damp was something new and shocking.

"Mom, I have to drip to get upstairs and change," I said, but she didn't hear me because she was too busy squealing. I groaned, knowing she had spotted the telltale picture packet.

"Are those your new school pictures?" she asked excitedly, taking them from my hands before I could answer. She seated herself at the kitchen table and went about opening the packet, chattering happily the whole time, while I attempted to sneak upstairs. "Oh, I'm so excited to see these. Its your senior year, and you really are a pretty girl when you want to be, Claire. And you were wearing that shirt that we bought in Port - "

When she suddenly cut short, I knew she had finished opening and was now seeing. And I was only just putting my foot on the bottom step. I froze.

She was silent for several long moments. Finally, she sighed, "Oh, Claire."

I turned around. "Its not my fault, Mom, that photographer guy sucked at his job, and…." My voice trailed off.

And then, to make matters worse, my sister Carly walked in. Her stupid boyfriend drove her, so she usually beat me home. I say usually because sometimes they would decide to mack out for a while. My mother knew that's what they were doing, but she always accepted their lame excuses. I'm pretty sure Carly could tell Mom she was pregnant and a crack whore, and my mom would just say, "All right, honey, just stay safe." Of course, she'd be _thinking, _"All right, honey, just stay not-Claire." My sister was a year younger than me, and oozed sweetness and ladylike beauty and grace in a way I could never hope to match.

"Oh, are those Claire's pictures?" She floated over to my mother's side and looked at my pictures, before frowning slightly. "Oh. Well. Those aren't…well, hmm." My sister didn't have it in her to say anything meaner than Glinda the good witch.

I harrumphed. "Yeah, I know, I don't look like _you_." At the sight of Carly's taken aback face, I instantly felt sorry. I did love my sister. Very much. What I didn't love was our mother's blatant favoritism, but since I couldn't do a whole lot about it I generally took it out on Carly. "Sorry," I muttered to her quietly.

My mother apparently heard the snide comment, but not my apology, because she looked at me. Not just looked at me. She _looked _at me. The Mom Look. With a capital 'L'. "I suppose everyone else managed to look decent in their pictures," she said, clearly annoyed.

"Nuh uh," I said defiantly. "I saw Allison Sorenson's, and it looks like she swallowed ipecac." I was proud of my analogy from earlier.

"I bet she's at least _smiling_," my mother insisted.

"And Anthony Stecher looks like he's brain dead in his."

"No, Claire, I saw his pictures. That's just how he always looks. You shouldn't make fun of him," my sister quietly admonished. My mother looked at my younger sister fondly, and I suddenly felt like I had swallowed my own dosage of ipecac.

My mother whirled on me again. "Couldn't you just sit still for ten seconds while he took the picture? I mean, what were you saying that was so important that you couldn't wait until _after _the picture was taken to say it?"

"I didn't _mean _to talk when he took it," I said defensively. "He didn't even warn me, so its not entirely my fault."

Just then a knock came at the door. My sister went and answered the door. I was pleased to see it was Quil. Quil was quite possibly the only person on the planet to get me. Obviously my sister was pleased it was Quil, too. Ever since she turned fifteen she had been "in love" with him, and to my extreme annoyance, she followed him everywhere she could making googly eyes at him. I wondered absently if her stupid boyfriend knew this.

My mother smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Quil."

"Hello, Tammy," he replied, his deep voice in sharp contrast to all the feminine ones in the house.

It also never ceased to amaze me how he made our house seem like a doll house. He simply towered over all three of us. Even my dad only came up just above Quil's shoulder.

He peered over my mother's shoulder, and I grimaced. His mouth twisted as if trying and failing to conceal a smile. "So these are your school pictures, Claire?" he asked, feigning innocence. I could see the amusement in his eyes, though. He knew right well that those pictures were causing a stir.

My mother's annoyed expression returned. "Yes, they are." She Looked at me again. The one with the capital 'L.' "I'm not sending these to your grandparents. And I hope you're pleased that they will be going into your senior yearbook for all your future generations to see."

Quil's eyes twinkled a bit more. "Oh, I don't know. I think they're very…representative of Claire's person. I like them."

I shot him a death glare. Except Quil didn't quite understand death glares. At least not mine. He found them incredibly amusing instead.

My mother finally cracked a smile. "Yes, very representative. Her mouth wide open with words pouring out." She shook her head, laughing, and stowed the pictures away in a drawer without another scolding word my way. "I just won't show these to your father, then." She went about washing and peeling potatoes for dinner.

I thundered up the stairs to my bedroom, and I heard Quil follow. I threw my book bag on the floor by my desk, kicking my squelching wet shoes off, and immediately began to peel my clothes off.

Quil entered the room behind me and shut the door quietly. He flopped down on my bed, which was far, far too small for him, carefully averting his eyes. He snickered again. "I really do like those pictures."

"Oh, hush up, you," I snapped, throwing my sopping t-shirt in his face. "I'm mad at you. You mocked me in front of my mother. Again."

I was grateful in spite of what I was saying. He had averted disaster from my family. Had my mother stewed on the pictures long enough to show my father when he got home from work, I would have been miserable all day. I knew my father wouldn't really care, but he would be slightly disappointed. I absolutely hated disappointing my father.

"Hey," he said, rising from the bed as I was bent over shuffling through my dresser drawer for a new t-shirt. "You know better than to throw things at me," he said playfully.

I stood up from shuffling and put my hands on my hips. I was only in jeans and a bra, but I didn't feel uncomfortable around Quil. He'd been around as long as I could remember, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen it before. "Yeah, I'm totally afraid of you," I replied dully. I went busily back to looking for a t-shirt. When no reply came from Quil, I glanced back up at him. I realized that his eyes were traveling up and down my body.

I knew I didn't have a bad body, per se. I was always naturally thin. But I had virtually no curves whatsoever. No chest that I had so desperately wanted. When it hadn't come by my last birthday, I had given up on it. But whether I had a good body or not was besides the point. The point was Quil was looking. It wasn't creepy, but it was new, and I, for all I want to change the world, don't do new well.

I quickly grabbed a Star Wars t-shirt and pulled it over my head. I nudged the drawer shut, and ran my fingers through my short, dark hair. Quil, who was very perceptive when it came to me, sometimes annoyingly so, realized that I had noticed him looking. Uncomfortable, he gathered my wet clothes that I had carelessly strewn on the floor and took them to the laundry room to dump them in the wash.

In his brief moment of absence, I collapsed on my bed. Quil entered again and made a whining noise that sounded uncannily like a dog. I lifted my head to look at him. "What're you bitchin' about?" I demanded.

"Ever charming, Claire," he replied. "You know I don't like sitting in the chair at your desk. And now you've taken the bed, and I just don't know where I'll sit," he said melodramatically.

My head fell back on the pillow lazily and I didn't reply. I shut my eyes instead. Quil didn't like sitting in any chairs that had arms on them. He was, in general, too big for them.

"You won't move for me?" he asked in the same melodramatic tone.

"No," I said shortly. I smiled slightly when I heard the whining sound again.

"I see that smile," he said sulkily. "You're tormenting me."

"Mmhm." I rolled over, my back to him.

He crossed the room in two steps and plopped down on the bed next to me. His weight made the mattress sag. "You're mean," he said simply.

"Its true," I replied. I rolled over again so that I was facing him. He lay down next to me. Still slightly chilled from my thorough soaking, I moved closer to his abnormally warm body. I burrowed my cold nose into his t-shirt, feeling the heat radiate off his chest through the thin cotton.

He moved a strand of my damp hair tenderly behind my ear. "Wanna take a nap?" he asked.

"Mmhm," I repeated.

He said nothing else, only hugged me closer to him.

I loved falling asleep in his arms. I never needed a blanket with Quil there. And since it was one thing I enjoyed that my mother didn't mind, I enjoyed it to its utmost.

* * *

A/N: This is my first Twilight fic. Hope you like it! 


	2. The Barbeque

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Two: The Barbeque  
Claire's POV

Disclaimer: Gwah don't own it.

* * *

Quil sometimes acted like a big brother, but he was more than that. He was my best friend. Besides, why would I need a pretend brother when I had a real one? 

I was rudely awakened from my nap with Quil by said brother. And a squirt gun. Quil was roaring with laughter. Me, not so much.

A noise came out of my throat that even I didn't know I could make and my 8 year old brother Devon was giggling like mad and running out of my room. I attempted to leap of my bed and hurtle after him, but an iron bar held me back. I swatted at Quil's arm, but he didn't release me, so I gave up. Sort of. "You brat!" I screamed toward the door. "Do it again, and I'll shove that squirt gun some place it doesn't belong!"

Quil, who was still laughing, said, "Chill, Claire. He's a kid."

"I was _napping_," I whined. But Quil's sparkling brown eyes took the anger out of me. They tended to do that, and it was far too much work to try to stay angry. Still, I muttered, "Reason number 516 I'm never having children."

My mother appeared in the doorway. "What's the ruckus?"

"Devon just attacked me."

"With a squirt gun," Quil added.

My mother fought a smile and disappeared again.

"Aren't you going to punish him?" I hollered after her. All I got in response was something that sounded like "clean up for dinner, Claire."

I picked myself up off the bed, Quil having finally released me, and shuffled to the bathroom down the hall. I gazed into the mirror and made a face at what I saw.

I had brown eyes, like everyone in my family except my father. I had inherited my father's fair skin. My almost-black hair was cut to about shoulder length, though it curled naturally, so it fell a little higher. My mother was furious when I had my waist length hair chopped off at 16. To me it was a small victory against her. Me, 1. Mom, 9,242. But no matter what, I did need to clean up. Thanks to good old Mother Nature, my eye makeup was no longer just on my eyes.

I turned the faucet on and quickly washed my face, not bothering to reapply my makeup. I headed back to my room. I was just outside the door when I heard my sister's voice inside. Undoubtedly, she was flirting with Quil. I rolled my eyes and entered. Sure enough, she was sitting on the bed next to Quil, her hand on his knee, inviting him to stay for dinner.

I always got the feeling that Quil put on a show for me, by flirting with my sister. He knew it annoyed me. He also knew that it annoyed me because I don't share attention well. And definitely not his attention.

So though he was sitting still when I entered the room, as soon as he saw me he started to focus on Carly much more. And so, naturally, I promptly kicked Carly from the room. If she beat me in everything else, she would not beat me with my best friend.

And I swear I saw that doofus smirk.

I put my hands on my hips. "Are you staying for dinner, then, or what, Quil?"

"Your sister is much more polite in how she asks," he commented.

My eyes narrowed. "Well, bully for my sister."

He rose from the bed. "Aw, come on, Claire." He wrapped his arms around me. I didn't return the embrace. "You know you're my favorite." He kissed the top of my head.

"You're such a cheater when it comes to me being mad at you," I muttered, wriggling away from him.

"Eh, you like it. And yes, I'm staying for dinner."

We went downstairs to dinner. My father got home just as we walked in the kitchen. I smiled and hugged him in greeting.

After dinner, my father went to his study, and my mom retreated to their bedroom to read. Devon, Carly, Quil, and I all collapsed in various spots in the living room to watch TV. I was lying down on the couch with my head in Quil's lap.

At nine, which was Devon's bedtime, Carly left the room with him to put him to bed. She never returned downstairs, having retired to bed herself.

I realized I was dozing off. I yawned spectacularly, and Quil picked me up, cradling me in his arms. "Time for bed," he said, and headed toward the stairs. I didn't protest.

By the time we got to my room, I was slightly more awake, and changed into my pajamas. Then I crawled into bed, and Quil tucked me in.

"Tomorrow's Friday. A bunch of the guys are having a barbeque down on the beach tomorrow night. Would you like to come?" he asked.

I yawned again. "Sure, sure. Sounds like fun."

He smiled. "Okay, I'll pick you up at 6:30." He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Goodnight, Claire."

I'm pretty sure I was asleep by the time he had crossed to the door and left, closing it quietly behind him.

* * *

As usual, school was hell, even though it was a Friday. I don't do school well. As my mother said every couple of months when progress reports and report cards came out, "You're more than smart enough. You're scary smart. You just don't apply yourself." And there was no arguing with the lack of application. If it weren't for the fact that I had to be a student at school to participate in school plays, I imagine I would have had a hard time to convince myself to continue my schooling at all. 

Being in between any shows, I had no rehearsal after school so I was able to go straight home. As I was walking home, one of my friends that I had met through theatre rode his bike past me. He recognized me, and then he hopped off his bike to walk beside it and waited for me to catch up.

"Hey Tony," I said.

"Hey," he answered, flashing me a grin. "How have you been?"

I shrugged, still focused on his smile. "Pretty good. You?"

"I've been great." He smiled again.

I'd always had a soft spot for Tony. I'd never really had any serious crushes before, but Tony was a little different. He was always a perfect gentleman, and I was a total sap for it. It was like he'd warped here from another age.

"That's good," I mumbled, always the inept flirt.

"So what are your plans for this weekend?" he asked.

"Oh, not much. Tonight I'm going over to La Push for a barbeque, but after that I've got nothing."

His brows furrowed ever so slightly. "Are you going with Quil?" Tony had met Quil after the very first play Tony and I had ever been in together.

"Yeah," I replied. Seeing him look slightly disappointed, I added, "But it's like a big get-together, you know? Everyone will be there. My uncle and aunt, and some of my cousins, too."

Looking slightly mollified, he smiled at me again. "That's cool. Anyway, here's my house." He started up the drive. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Oh, okay," I said, trying to hide my excitement. "Bye."

"See you later, Claire." He disappeared inside his house.

As I continued walking home, I mulled things over in my mind. Tony liked me. That much was obvious. Tony was the closest thing I'd ever had to a real crush, so it was exciting to me. But even he didn't conjure up the feelings that my friends always talked about when they had feelings for a boy. Figuring that was a personal problem, I shrugged it off and chose to enjoy the fact that a boy was not put of by my loud mouth, especially a boy that I actually felt something for.

I got home, and found Carly sitting on the couch watching some soap opera. She looked utterly enthralled. I rolled my eyes and went upstairs faster than was really necessary. I did some of my homework before Quil came over. At 6:00, I changed my clothes and checked myself in the mirror, fixing my makeup. I heard Quil's truck pull up to my house at 6:25. He was always early everywhere. I figured that it was probably a good balance since I had a horrible way of being at least ten minutes late anywhere.

Knowing Carly would pounce, I thundered down the stairs to get to him first. I had to unceremoniously brush Carly aside to get to the front door first. I opened it to see Quil's smiling, dimpled face.

He looked me over. "You look great," he said, taking my hand and attempting to spin me. The spin was a complete failure because I tripped over my own feet. He just grinned wider and led me out the door by my hand, calling a goodbye to a ruffled-looking Carly over his shoulder.

He initially opened the passenger side door to his truck for me, but I stood still and crossed my arms. He sighed heavily. "Claire, get in the truck. I forgot to bring my bike, and we are not walking to La Push." I wrinkled my nose at him, but got in the truck nonetheless.

Whenever Quil and I drove anywhere together, it was a constant battle over the radio. He liked his music loud and obnoxious. I preferred to actually enjoy the music by listening at a comfortable level. Usually by the time we arrived anywhere, one of us had snapped the radio off in frustration, and this time was no different.

We walked down the beach to where the bonfire was already started.

"Claire!" several voices chorused. I grinned. I never felt quite as at home as when I was with this group, unless it was when Quil and I were alone.

I rushed into my Aunt Emily's arms first, and she placed a massive kiss on my cheek. "Claire, you are so beautiful," she said, holding me at arm's length and looking me over as if she hadn't seen me in ages, when in reality I had dinner at her house the week before.

Emily always broke my heart a little. She was the truly beautiful one, and it always hurt me to see her face.

I went to Uncle Sam next. I was never as close to him as I was to Emily, but I adored him nonetheless. He gave me a hug and said, "Hey, kiddo."

As soon as Sam released me, I was enveloped by two strong arms from behind and lifted off my feet, while having the wind knocked out of me. "Claire, I swear to God you're avoiding me. You never visit me anymore, dammit."

I gasped for air. "I'm not avoiding you, Embry. Seriously. I'm not. I swear. Put me down." Once he had obliged, I hugged him properly, then kicked him once in the shin. He didn't even flinch, but he acted wounded anyway, and mock-pouted.

Jacob Black was behind him, as though waiting in line to greet me, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Of all the Quileute men, Jacob was the most reserved, though I was told he hadn't always been that way. Giving Embry no more attention, I hugged Jacob tightly, though he only awkwardly patted my back in return.

I then greeted Seth, Leah, Jared, Jared's wife Kim, and Paul. Then the barbeque really began.

As darkness fell, we were all reclined in various spots around the fire, laughing and telling stories. I never wanted to leave, but when I started yawning every few seconds sometime after midnight, Quil insisted that it was time to take me home. I bid everyone a good night, then got back into Quil's truck.

On the drive back, it began raining profusely. I dozed, but I peeked my eyes open when Quil's truck stopped and I heard him mutter a string of obscenities. "Are we home?" I muttered.

"No," he replied, obviously annoyed with something. "My truck ran out of gas."

I was fully awake. "Well, how far are we from home?"

"Not very far. I guess I'll walk you there." He peered out the windshield. "And what nice weather for a walk."

I groaned but I got out of the truck. Within seconds I was drenched and shivering. Quil draped his jacked on my shoulders, but it didn't help much. His arm around me kept me much warmer.

I recognized where we were, even in the rain and the dark, and I knew that we were indeed close to my house. But trudging through the mud made it feel much, much farther than usual.

By the time we reached my house, I was sufficiently miserable. We huddled under the porch for a second, debating whether going inside soaking wet was worth the wrath of my mother if she found out, but we ended up going inside anyway. The house was dark and everyone was asleep, so we were as quiet as possible as we made our way up the stairs.

Quil grabbed towels from the bathroom while I snuck into my parents' closet to steal some of my father's clothes for Quil to change into. I met Quil back in my bedroom. I began to try and dry my hair with a towel, while Quil changed. When he stripped his shirt off, I blushed at his well-defined muscles and forced myself to look away.

My teeth were still chattering audibly and I was shivering so much that I dropped the towel on accident.

"Here, let me help you," Quil offered. He came over, still shirtless. He rubbed his hands over my arms in an attempt to warm me up. His skin was so hot it almost felt like he was burning me. Then he hooked his fingers under my shirt, saying "Arms up." I obliged, but when I felt his fingers brush the sensitive skin on my stomach as he peeled my shirt off, I felt my whole body tense.

Once I was free of my wet shirt, Quil's hands returned unnecessarily to my waist, burning my skin there. It was then that I realized that we hadn't broken eye contact since he'd come over to help me. It was then that I also noticed I was no longer shivering from the cold.

I involuntarily stepped slightly closer to him. I would later blame that on the fact that I was still chilled and he was always so warm, but that wasn't it. I was just drawn to him. His fingers were trailing up and down my sides. Then he raised one hand and cupped my face, the other hand moving to the small of my back. There was a feeling in my chest and stomach that I'd never felt before, and my eyes fell shut. As soon as my eyes closed, Quil suddenly dropped his arms from around me and backed away quickly.

My eyes snapped open. He was avoiding my gaze as he gathered up both his wet shirt and the dry clothes he'd yet to change into. "If it's alright with you, I'll just sleep down on your couch tonight. I'll deal with my truck in the morning. Good night, Claire." And before I had a chance to say anything, he had hurried out my bedroom door and closed it behind him.

I mindlessly went through the motion of changing my clothes, then I crawled into bed, still stunned by what had happened. What _had _happened?


	3. Complicated Relationships

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Three: Complicated Relationships  
Claire's POV

Disclaimer: A real one! I do not own any part or character from the Twilight Series belonging to Stephenie Meyer, nor is any profit being made from this fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, Quil was more than halfway through his breakfast. He seemed to be in a hurry to get going. I'm pretty sure my mother scowled at me because I scratched my rear in a very unladylike manner, but I'm not sure. She could have just been scowling for no reason. She has been known to do so. I sat down groggily at the kitchen table and poured myself a bowl of cereal. As I poured milk over my cereal, I eyed the way Quil was wolfing down his own cereal, like it was the best bowl of Cocoa Puffs he'd ever tasted.

"Did you know that more people die choking on cereal each year than die getting struck by lightning?" I asked the general population.

At that precise moment, Quil made a large unattractive slurping noise while trying to simultaneously give me the stink eye and avoid eye contact. I raised an eyebrow at him once he had finally met my eye. "Cool your jets, turbo. Cocoa Puffs don't have a history of running away if you take too long to eat 'em," I said. "Although it has been known to happen in the southern hemisphere, it's fairly unusual around here due to the - "

"That's enough, Claire," my mother said, though Carly was giggling. "Let the boy eat."

"You do realize he's over thirty, of course," I grumbled, reverting to pout-mode. "I had no idea thirty-year-old men were still 'boys.'"

"Well, you woke up in a sparkling mood this morning," my mother snapped.

I flashed her a toothy grin in response.

"Give her a break, Tam. She never was a morning person," my dad spoke up from behind the morning paper.

I made a gesture that clearly said, "I told you so," though what it was I had told her, I wasn't sure.

My mother began clearing the table, taking my bowl away before I was strictly done with it.

Quil scooted his chair back from the table with a screech across the linoleum. "Thanks again for breakfast and everything," he said to my mother. "I'd better go get my truck some food of its own before it decides to never run again."

"Alright, Quil." My mother smiled warmly at him. "We'll see you again tomorrow?"

The way Quil's eyes darted to me didn't slip past my radar. I amused myself for a second by tossing around the word "Quildar" in my head.

"You know, I've got a lot to do tomorrow. Embry's painting his living room and he wanted some help with it, so I think I'll be busy tomorrow. Maybe later this week. Anyway, I'll see you." He headed out the front door. After a moment, I followed. He had sufficiently ruffled my feathers. I got out on the front porch and stared at him with my hands on my hips. He glanced up at me from the bottom step and sighed heavily. "Yes, Claire?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Not one word to me."

"Excuse me?" he asked, looking innocent.

"You didn't say one word to me all through breakfast," I said, putting all my effort into sounding threatening. I had a feeling it wasn't working. At five foot flat and 110 pounds, it's hard to be intimidating, but I carried on anyway. "You were just going to leave without even speaking to me."

He shrugged. "I'm in trouble then?"

I raised my eyebrows. "I thought that was purdy clear, mister." I have a bad habit of talking in equally bad accents.

He sighed again, and it crossed my mind that he was being awfully dramatic. Then again, I was the one standing on the porch in pj's and frizzy hair, in total attack mode. "Look, Claire. Sometimes...sometimes I forget you're no longer a child. It catches me off guard sometimes."

My hands dropped from my hips. I hadn't exactly been expecting that one. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He smiled oddly. "It has everything to do with everything. Last night..."

"What of it?" I cut him off. I was determined to move on. This was bordering upon ridiculous. "Nothing happened, Quil, in case you hadn't noticed. Besides you running out of gas, of course. But that was your own problem, so I don't see why you're ignoring me. Your logic defies me on this one."

It was Quil's turn to look a little surprised. Then he grinned widely. "Yeah, you're right, huh?"

"Always," I replied, shrugging.

He rolled his eyes pointedly, then opened his arms to me, saying, "Get over here, kid."

I went into his hug, but I said, "Thought I wasn't a kid anymore? Good God, man, make up your mind." His laughter sent vibrations through his chest and then into me. "Okie dokie, that's enough," I said, dancing out of his embrace. "Get the hell off of my property." He threw his hands up in defeat, but once he'd turned his back to me, I kicked him in the rear for good measure. "Have fun painting Embry's living room."

He groaned, and I snickered. Guess Quil wasn't so intent on helping Embry after all.

* * *

I spent the rest of the day attempting to catch up on my homework, but I spent most of the time making a timeline that I didn't follow and a checklist that didn't help. By dinner time, I had given up on the homework frontier.

"So Claire," my mother began, setting a plate down in front of me, "who are you thinking about for a prom date?"

"Mom, it's September." I stabbed the steak with my fork and dropped it unceremoniously on my father's plate. "And vegetarianism isn't a phase," I snapped.

Ignoring the latter half of my comment, she said, "Well, senior prom is a big deal. There must be some boy you've got your eye on."

Tony floated into mind, but I snorted. "Even if there were, I wouldn't tell you people. You're like the mafia. The last thing I need is for the guy I like to have you on his tail."

"I am not the mafia, Claire!" my mother cried, clearly exasperated.

Devon looked up from his mashed potatoes, which he had been sculpting into a volcano with gravy-lava. "The mafia?" he questioned.

"Nothing, Devon," my mother said quickly, before turning back to me. "Do you strive to be disagreeable?"

"Not really. I guess it's just something that comes naturally to me," I said, shrugging. Carly bit back a laugh.

Mom finally sat down herself. Placing her napkin in her lap, she said, "Maybe you wouldn't have such a difficult time with boys if you were more like Carly."

A hush fell over the table. Carly was staring determinedly at her plate, and my father sighed. I could feel my teeth grinding together and was only dimly aware that my knuckles were white on my glass of water. Only Devon made any noise, giving the eruption of his volcano some pretty intense sound effects.

After a moment of my mother unapologetically beginning to eat, I set my glass down with a little more force that was necessary. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not Carly, Mom," I hissed between my teeth. "But no worries. I'll be gone in less than a year anyway, and you can pretend you never had me. You can even turn my bedroom into that sewing room you always wanted." I stood up from the table noisily and thundered up the stairs to my bedroom. I slammed the door behind me - I tend to make as much noise as possible when I'm upset. I threw myself face down on the bed and I started crying in spite of myself.

A few minutes later, someone knocked softly at my door. When I didn't respond, Carly's voice floated in to me, "Claire? Can I come in?" She opened the door slightly and peeked her head in.

I shot her a look. "Of course you can come in, Carly. Why wouldn't I want you in here? You're perfect, remember? I'm being graced with your presence." Her face crumpled up into pain. I sighed and mentally shook myself. "I'm sorry, Car. It's not your fault. I'm sorry."

She shrugged and came in, quietly closing the door after her. "No. It's all right. I deserve a little berating. It's not as if I stood up for you down there."

"Nobody did," I replied, sitting up on my bed.

She sat down beside me. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't have." We sat in silence for a moment. "Do you want me to call Quil?" she asked.

I sniffed and I realized with a start that I'd begun crying again. "No," I replied. "I'm fine." Just then, another knock came on the door. "Come in." My father stepped inside the room. I eyed him icily. Of all people, I felt he should have been the one to call my mother off.

"I'm sorry, Claire," he said after a moment.

I held my ground. "For what? For not standing up for me? For marrying a stone-cold b - "

"Don't," he said quietly but firmly. "You don't make it easy, you know."

"Easy?" I questioned. Carly's hand slid into mine as if she was on my side.

"It's difficult for your mother. You never allowed her in. You were always too busy with Quil or with me. Then Carly came along, and your mother had an instant best friend. And now...Carly gets straight A's, she never gets in trouble, she doesn't give your mother sass - "

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not Carly!" That phrase was one that constantly flew around my head but seldom got voiced. Tonight, however, I'd already said it twice. More tears. Dammit. I made a mental note to avoid serious conversations like the plague from here on out.

He held up a hand to get me to be quiet. "Hear me out, Claire. I'm not saying she's right. I'm just saying you've got to see where she's coming from. She isn't like you, and she can't understand you. And you make it harder for her because you won't let her anywhere near you."

"Like she tries to get in," I mumbled.

"She does try. That conversation about the prom was her way of trying. She does it all the time," he insisted.

"Still," I said, "she's supposed to be the adult. And so're you. You're standing here lecturing me about letting her in when she basically told me I would be better off if I weren't me. Mother of the year, I think not."

"She's got a point. Life would be easier for you if you weren't you. You care so much and do so much. You would feel a lot less pain if you learned to distance yourself a little. But you've got a point, too. She is the adult and shouldn't have said what she said," he mused.

"So you think I should change?" My heart felt like it was all the way down by my kidney.

My father looked shocked. "Of course not! I said your life would be easier if you cared less, but the world needs people like you, Claire. And as long as you're willing to put up that fight, then you should never change."

A huge weight lifted off my chest and I smiled a little. Carly squeezed my hand gently.

"Although," he added, "it is worth it to consider cutting your mom some slack this time. I expect she's feeling pretty guilty right about now, and she'll undoubtedly apologize, however hard that may be for her. And however hard it may be for you to forgive her, I suggest you try and do it. I can't make you, though. I've never been able to make you do anything." He smiled at me, crossing the room to give me a quick hug and a kiss on the top of my head. "Want me to call Quil?"

I laughed. "No, I'm okay. What is it with you people and calling Quil every time I'm upset?"

My father gave Carly a hug as well and said, "I guess we figure that if anyone can calm you down, he can."

"I'm calm!" I cried, sort of disproving my point. My father chuckled and left the room. I flopped backwards to lie on my bed.

"Claire, I'm glad you're not like me," Carly said after a moment. She stood up and crossed to the door. Before she left, she turned back to me and said, "In fact, sometimes I wish I were more like you. Goodnight, Claire." She was gone before I could say anything.

I smiled and I felt a few more tears brimming, these ones happy. I slept well that night, and the next day, which was Sunday, my mother did apologize. I knew that we would still have plenty of problems. We were in no way best buds – that title still was synonymous with Carly – and I knew that the problem itself was still unsolved, but I felt like I had a little more insight into my mother after that.

* * *

Sunday also found Quil in Embry's house, covered in paint and looking sorely pissed off. "I don't know how you got me to agree to this."

Embry came into the room from the kitchen carrying two cold beers. He handed one to Quil. "I know you don't mean that. See, I know that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart because we're such good friends."

Quil collapsed on a plastic-covered sofa to drink his beer. After a moment of silence, he said, "Y'know, Claire's not a kid anymore."

"Not true. She's still a kid until her 18th birthday," Embry said.

"Smart-ass. That's October 13th. Not very far away. And I don't mean legally. I mean she's not a kid anymore. She's...she's got boobs, Embry," Quil stated awkwardly.

"I've seen thirteen-year-olds with bigger assets than Claire, so if that's all that constitutes adulthood - "

"Don't be a perv. I just mean she's grown up." Quil took a sip of beer. "Faster than I imagined," he added quietly.

"So," Embry said, sitting down next to Quil, "why don't you tell her already?"

Quil choked on his drink. "I can't. She's just a kid," he sputtered.

"Nice contradiction there, mate. I'm sure that takes some talent. Or a disconnection from rational thought at the very least," Embry said.

Quil glared. "You two seem better suited, y'know? You would understand each other's sarcasm."

"Ah, but opposites attract. Fiery little Claire needs somebody boring like you." Embry propped his feet up on the coffee table.

Sighing, Quil said, "That's just it. I don't think she's attracted to me. I don't think the thought's even crossed her mind."

"I wouldn't worry about it. It'll occur to her, and once it has you'll have to beat her off with a stick. But you may have to shove her in the right direction. Get a move on, Ateara, or you may be the first ever wolf to lose his imprint due to her death by old age. Cheers!" Embry raised his beer can and Quil half-heartedly met it with his own.


	4. The Werewolf's Revenge

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Four: The Werewolf's Revenge  
Claire's POV

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or it's characters.

* * *

I was mad. No, mad wasn't the right word. Annoyed? Maybe. Frustrated? A little. But mostly I was just...hurt. It was Monday, and at school I'd seen Tony. Which would have made me happy except that seeing him caused me to remember our conversation on Friday. I remembered that he had said he'd call me on Saturday. And he never did.

One could argue that since I didn't even recall that he was supposed to call, therefore his call went un-missed, that I had no right to be upset. But I was upset anyway because I don't always think these things through completely before getting worked up. Besides, it's not like I'd had a lot of experience in this area, and I simply assumed the worst: that Tony had suddenly come to his senses and realized I was a complete beast.

I had seen him coming towards me in the hallway between first and second periods, and I dodged into the girls' bathroom. I managed to avoid him all day until acting class, but even then I sat on the opposite side of the room and even when he called my name after class, I pretended not to hear and kept rushing out of the classroom.

Now I was at home, wallowing in self pity. I was collapsed on the couch flipping through channels on the TV endlessly, never stopping on any channel long enough to really see what was on. "Beat it, Devon!" I shouted suddenly. Devon squeaked from behind the couch and took off running with his squirt gun. He hadn't made any noise, but I'd obtained a sort of extrasensory little brother perception.

I then put all my thought and focus into an attempt to become one with the couch. When Carly came in and sat primly next to me on the couch, I gave up.

"What's the matter, Claire?" she asked immediately.

"Aw, no beating around the bush? Where's the fun?" I deadpanned. When she said nothing, I sighed. "Um...this guy said he'd call me on Saturday and he never did."

"And...this guy...," she played along. "Why didn't he call?"

"I dunno," I replied. "I didn't ask."

"Did you see him today?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't you ask then?" Carly wondered aloud.

"Well, I kind of...avoided him," I admitted.

Carly pursed her lips ever so slightly. "How do you expect to find out why he didn't call if you won't talk to him?"

"I don't really care why he didn't call," I snapped. "The fact is he didn't."

"You're not even dating. Why are you so upset?" Carly asked.

"Because!" I insisted. Truth be told, I didn't even know why I was so upset. But I was running with it.

Carly shook her head at me and stood up to go upstairs. "You know, Tony's a very nice guy. He undoubtedly has a good reason for not calling you. He wouldn't just blow you off."

I started. "How do you know - ?"

"It's not that hard to figure out. Everyone at school knows he likes you, and considering he's the only boy you give the time of day to, everyone assumes you like him, too." She giggled. "You're so obvious, Claire." She shook her head again and went upstairs.

I attempted once more to merge with the couch. Mission failed.

* * *

On Tuesday, I continued to avoid Tony. Quil came over that night, and he seemed both put out and pleased by my dilemma. Wednesday was similar, though no Quil which made it worse, and my upset feelings were fading rapidly. By Friday I was still dodging Tony, but by then it was mostly because I was too embarrassed at that point to face him and fess up to avoiding him. To make me feel even more ridiculous, one of his friends delivered a note from Tony to me at lunch time, explaining that his father had been laid off recently and the phone company had turned their phones off after one late bill too many; that he was sorry he hadn't called me when he said he would; and that he'd like to make it up to me. I felt like a total heel.

When I walked into acting class that day, Tony looked at me apprehensively, but I sat down right next to him. "I'm sorry," I rambled off quickly. "I overreacted and I was being a total brat and it was uncalled for."

Tony grinned that grin of his, and shrugged. "I'm sorry, too." I didn't know what he was sorry for. "No hard feelings?" he added.

"Of course not." I smiled. "Now, about making it up to me..."

* * *

"You have a date?!" All my family members plus Quil, who had joined us for dinner, shouted this at the same time. I'd attempted to throw it out casually, but it didn't happen.

"Thanks, guys. I didn't know it would come as such a shock that someone might find me appealing," I said dryly.

Carly was looking at me with a smile on her face and looking like an over-excited porcelain doll. Devon had already lost interest. My father looked torn between being pleased and being protective. My mother looked shocked. And Quil...Quil was looking like he'd take the kid's head off. His hands were shaking.

"When?" my mother managed to say.

"Tonight, actually," I replied as nonchalantly as I could.

"Tonight!" Carly squealed. Then she suddenly looked serious. "Are you wearing that?" she asked.

I looked down at my clothes. "Yeah, why?" I replied. I saw nothing wrong with a shirt that said, "God Bless America. Except Idaho. Screw Idaho."

"You know, I just got a shirt this weekend that would look great on you. It'll bring out your eyes," Carly said, avoiding, as always, saying anything mean.

"My eyes?" I laughed. "My eyes are shit-colored. How can you bring that out?"

Devon burst out laughing at the use of a four-letter word, but my mother didn't find humor in it. "Claire Elizabeth Sparrow!" she screeched. "Do not use that language!"

"At least not at the dinner table, Claire," my father said.

"At all!" my mother insisted.

"Sure, sure. No naughty words," I said, placating my mother.

"So it's with Tony, right?" Claire said, distracting my mother sufficiently.

"Tony?" she asked. "That nice boy from the plays? He likes you?" She said this as if it were not only unlikely, but bordering on impossible.

"Gee, guys." I rolled my eyes. "I'm never telling you anything. I get no joy from life," I said melodramatically. "And yes, it's Tony," I added to Carly. "He's picking me up after dinner and we're going to a movie. It's called like, _Werewolf's Revenge_ or something."

Quil started coughing loudly, having choked on whatever he was eating or perhaps his own spit. I stared at him. It was the first noise he'd made throughout the entire conversation. Once he'd recovered from his coughing fit (though his hands, which were now balled up into fists, were still shivering) he said, "_Werewolf's Revenge_, huh? That's...awesome." He didn't look like he thought it was awesome. In fact, I couldn't remember ever seeing him so perturbed about something before.

"Claire, come upstairs with me!" Carly cried and took off, apparently unable to contain herself any longer. She made me put on the shirt she'd been talking about, and though it was unlike anything I usually wore, I supposed it did look good on me.

A while later, a knock came at the door. Suddenly, a huge burst of butterflies and nerves broke out inside of me at the prospect of spending the night alone with Tony. I was mostly worried about conversation: how would I find enough to say to keep talking the whole time? I'm terrible with small talk. I nervously tried flattening my hair, but it didn't cooperate, so I gave up.

I answered the door and smiled. "Hi, Tony!" Tony's eyes were trained on something behind me. He looked terrified. I turned and saw Quil standing there with his arms crossed, looking extremely intimidating. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he continued to look like a tiger and Tony was his unfortunate prey. I grabbed Tony's arm. "Let's go."

"So you drive, eh, Tim?" Quil asked before we could get out of there.

Tony smiled and said politely, "It's Tony, actually. And yes, my father's letting me borrow his car for the night."

Quil appeared to be measuring Tony up. "Got any tickets or anything?"

"Quil!" I hissed warningly.

"No," Tony replied patiently. He laughed. "My sister actually makes fun of me. She says I drive like an old woman because I drive so carefully."

"Huh." Quil looked stumped for a moment. "So how come you don't have a girlfriend, Troy?"

Tony shrugged, not bothering to correct him this time. He smiled, and looked at me as he said, "Guess there just wasn't anybody I liked."

I smiled broadly in spite of myself. Quil made an odd growling noise. I grabbed Tony again and led him to the car before Quil could say anything else.

The ride to the movie theater was pleasant. Tony didn't like his music obnoxiously loud like Quil did, and Tony kept the conversation surprisingly easy, telling lots of stories and asking me questions instead of forcing me to think of something to talk about. When we arrived at the theater, he bought my ticket and even got me some popcorn and a soda. We made our way into the theater just as the previews started.

I was focused completely on my popcorn for several minutes until Tony put his arm around me. I looked at him, slightly startled, but I was pleased.

I love scary movies, and at first I was disappointed because it wasn't until about a quarter of the way of the movie that the werewolf even made an appearance. As the monster howled at the moon and ran wild, a very loud snort of laughter came from farther back in the theater. I thought it was a little annoying, but I thought nothing of it. But when this person just couldn't contain their laughter several more times, I turned and looked over my shoulder to give them the stink eye. And there was Quil, sitting a few rows behind us, clearly laughing at the movie. I scowled and sank as low in my seat as I possibly could. Tony looked at me questioningly, but I just shook my head and tried to watch the movie.

After the movie, I tried to make a beeline for the parking lot, nearly knocking down a woman in my hurry to get out, causing people to send several dirty looks my way. But Tony needed to use the restroom, so I impatiently waited outside, hoping Tony could pee fast. I groaned aloud when Quil strolled around the corner.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Oh, hey, Claire," he said casually.

"Don't, 'oh, hey' me, Quil. What do you think you're doing?" I hadn't been so furious in a while.

"Came to see a movie," he replied innocently.

My eyes flashed. "Am I not allowed to go on a date? Is that just not okay with you? Because frankly, I don't need your approval. You aren't my father."

A hint of doubt flitted across his face. "I don't want to be your father."

"Good!" I cried. "Because you'd be like, the worst dad ever! You completely disrespected me by coming here tonight. You know that, right? It was totally out of line."

"Claire," he began.

"No. I don't want to hear it. You need to back off, Quil. This isn't okay." I shook my head for more effect. "You need to back off!"

He looked a little hurt but I didn't care. "I don't know what to say."

Just then Tony reappeared from the bathroom. He eyed the situation and looked put out – the most negative emotion I'd ever seen on his face. He appeared to recover quickly and attempted to be polite. "Hello, Quil. I didn't expect to see you here."

Quil looked at him like he was now just a bug that annoyed him. "Yeah, well. I'll always be around, kid."

I thought I would lose it then. "Go away!" I was practically yelling now, and people were staring. "I do not need your supervision or your approval or anything else! You don't seem to understand how completely pissed off I am right now, because you just keep on acting like a jerk!" I grabbed Tony by the arm and pulled him next to me. "See this, Quil? I'm on a date right now. And my date does not include you. You should not be here."

Tony gently released himself from my clutches. "You know, I think I'll head on home. I don't think this is really about me. I'm sure Quil will give you a ride."

My jaw dropped. I looked at Tony pleadingly, but he sort of apologetically waved goodbye and left. I rounded on Quil. "Are you happy now?" I asked quietly. I felt my eyes brimming with tears. "You successfully scared him off. Gold star for you, Quil."

Finally, Quil began to show some remorse for his actions, but it was too late. "I'm sor - "

"Don't. I meant what I said. You need to back off. I don't care if you take up knitting or if you decide to be the Ken to my sister's Barbie, but something's gotta change." I blinked back a few more tears.

He looked taken aback. "I don't want Carly," he said incredulously.

"Well, then what do you want, Quil? Because you're clearly not getting it, or else you wouldn't act this way!" Those damn tears were leaking out.

"I...don't know," he said lamely.

For whatever reason, I'd been expecting something from him. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't know why I'd expected anything at all, but I did. I shook my head. "Just take me home," I said.

"I - "

"Just take me home."

The ride home was deadly quiet. Quil didn't dare turn on the radio, and whenever he tried to talk to me, I said nothing in return. As I got out of his truck at my house I said, "Don't come over tomorrow." I slammed the car door shut as he opened his mouth to say something. Once I'd made it into my house, I leaned against the front door. I shut my eyes and a few more tears leaked out as I replayed the night in my head, but I was startled out of my reverie by Carly coming downstairs.

"Claire?" she asked into the dark living room.

I cleared my throat and said, "Yeah, Car. It's me."

"My window was open. I thought I saw Quil's truck in the driveway. Did he drive you home?" she questioned.

"Yeah," I replied, but my voice cracked a little.

She paused. "Are you okay?"

I sniffled. "Not really," I said shakily.

"Oh, Claire," she said, and I heard her bare feet pad quickly across the floor so that she could wrap her arms around me. "Go upstairs and change into some pj's. I'll make some hot chocolate and be right up, and you can tell me if you want. If you don't want to, we'll just drink some hot chocolate."

And for not the first time, I found solace in, and was taken care of by, my baby sister.


	5. The Truth: Well, Part of It, Anyway

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Five: The Truth...Well, Part of It, Anyway  
Claire's POV

A/N: Long time, no updates. Sorry, as usual. Anyway, people have been asking how much Claire knows, how much her mom knows, etc. Well, Claire doesn't know about the whole werewolf or impringting thing _yet_. Her mother and father know (honestly, he had to tell them – otherwise they'd never let a teenage boy hang out with their 3 year old).

Disclaimer: This is just a fanfiction. I don't own Twilightverse.

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no. Stalking her at the movies does not count as a shove in the right direction," Embry said incredulously.

"I didn't _stalk_. I just...followed," Quil replied.

Jacob looked up from the open hood of the truck he was working on and wiped sweat from his forehead. "It sounds like you stalked," he said.

"And what was I supposed to do? Let her go off on a date with some punk who - " Quil began.

"I've seen this kid. I didn't think he was a punk. Did you Jake?" Embry interrupted.

"Nope. Definitely not a punk. Looked more like a mama's boy to me," Jacob replied thoughtfully.

"Yeah, the kind of sucker who'd buy her flowers for no reason and sit through chick flicks," Embry added.

Quil scowled. "Y'know what? Claire doesn't even like flowers and chick flicks."

Embry snorted. "She says that now."

"No, seriously. She's told me she'd rather have picked wildflowers because they mean more than the overpriced weeds they sell in stores. And that watching two lovebirds profess their undying love for one another puts her off more than a psycho with a chainsaw. Her words," Quil said triumphantly.

Jake smiled. "Sounds like Claire. You're a lucky man, Quil." He bent back over the engine of the truck.

"Yeah, if she doesn't get a restraining order," Embry muttered.

Quil threw a wrench at him, and Jacob snickered from the safety beneath the hood.

* * *

"He stalked you at the movies?" Carly had asked incredulously.

It took me a minute to try to decide if "stalk" was the right word. "Well...," I had replied, "not really. He just...followed me."

"Why are you trying to make it sound not-so-bad?" Carly had demanded, her cheeks flushed with anger at someone doing such a thing to me.

And to be honest, I didn't know why I was trying to make it sound not-so-bad. I was still upset with Quil, as proven by the fact that I was still crying my eyes out. And at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to tell Carly that it was all Quil's fault. Sure, I'd as much as said so to Quil's face, but that was different than telling somebody else. And now, the next morning, I was lying awake in bed, pretending to be asleep every time someone came in. I knew that Carly had told my mother what had happened, who undoubtedly in turn told my father, because both of my parent came in to check on me multiple times but didn't make me get up as they usually would have done.

I knew I was being overdramatic and I knew I was wallowing in self pity. I knew I should get up out of bed and just call Tony and apologize, but that sounded far more mature than I was in the mood to be.

"Claire?" my mother asked quietly, poking her head in for the third time in the past hour. I quickly shut my eyes to pretend to be asleep, but this time I was caught. "Claire, I saw your eyes. You're awake. Why don't you get up, honey? It's almost noon." She paused for a moment.

I knew she wanted to say something else, but was hesitating. This annoyed me. "What?" I demanded, opening my eyes again.

"Quil's on his way over. He just called. I told him it was okay."

I sat up quickly, sending my stuffed cocker spaniel Otis tumbling to the floor. "You did _what?_ What makes you think I want to talk to him?"

My mother once again looked like she wanted to say something, but wouldn't or couldn't. Finally she said, "I just think you should give him a chance to explain. You've known each other so long, it would be a shame to push him away over a boy you went on one date with." I started to object, but she added loudly, "You know Quil would never intentionally hurt you." Then she left, because she knew that she had said enough and she had known all along I would talk to Quil.

I scooped up Otis and hugged him close to me. He'd been my Christmas gift from Quil when I was 6, and he'd instantly become my favorite toy. I still rarely slept without him on the bed with me, and I still talked to him when I felt no one else would listen or understand.

"Well, he can come," I told Otis sullenly, "but I don't have to get out of bed for this shit. Screw him if he thinks I'll brush my teeth just to see him. He gets ugly Claire right now."

I pouted in my bed until a while later when Quil knocked quietly on the door. "Come in," I grunted, trying to sound as aggressive as possible while still trying to avoid looking like I cared too much.

Quil hesitantly entered the room, shutting the door behind him. I knew he was trying to make eye contact but I wouldn't do it. I stared blankly at the ceiling instead. "Hi," he said finally. When I didn't respond, he made to sit on the edge of my bed, but I purposefully stretched out as much as possible so that he couldn't. He straightened back up again. "Claire, I'm really sorry about last night, okay?"

"No. It's not okay," I replied, finally looking at him.

Running a hand through his hair, Quil looked nervous and sad. "I didn't mean to butt into your date like that. I don't know what I was thinking. It just didn't feel right for you to go out with him."

"To you," I reminded him. "It didn't feel right _to you_. It felt perfectly fine to me."

"Really?" Quil asked suddenly. "It felt totally normal?"

"Of course it did!" I snapped. "I'm a teenage girl, and we date boys!" But at the same time, I kind of knew that wasn't true. I wasn't an ordinary teenage girl, and I knew it. I just didn't know what made me so different. Different enough that dating, even dating Tony, didn't appeal to me the same way it appealed to my friends. And while I had felt a smug satisfaction that Tony wanted to take me out and that he had put his arm around me at the movies, it wasn't exactly what I was _looking for_. But I didn't tell Quil that.

Quil's face fell slightly. "Huh. Well, like I said, I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I said I was. And I meant it. Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness?" Quil snapped at me suddenly.

I raised my eyebrows, my tempter flaring. "I dunno. That seems fairly reasonable, considering what you did."

"Considering what _I _did? _I'm_ not the one galavanting around with some prick you met at school."

"First of all, it's none of your business who I go _galavanting_ around with. Second of all, it was a date with a boy. Not a meeting with my crack dealer. Get over it. Jesus," I spat back, sitting up in my bed.

"It is my business. It is one hundred and fifty percent my business, so don't give me that," Quil replied angrily.

"Well, you certainly seem to believe it's your business." I crossed my arms defiantly.

"It is! You _belong_ to me!"

"I _what_?! Ex-_cuse_ me? I do not _belong_ to you, or to anybody else, for that matter!" I realized I was practically shouting now, but I was so enraged I couldn't find it in me to lower my voice.

He sighed rather dramatically. "I don't mean like you're my possession or something."

"Well, what do you mean, then? Please. Enlighten me," I demanded. I raised my eyebrows expectantly.

Quil opened his mouth to continue to fight, then suddenly snapped it shut again. His face went from angry to thoughtful – the same look my mother had had when she was trying to tell me something earlier. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes searched my face and I had time to wonder what his problem was before he said, "There's a lot you don't know."

I made a face. "I'm waiting for you to explain, since you so clearly know more than me. Or at least believe you do." My anger had yet to ebb, but he had piqued my curiosity.

He began pacing back and forth across my room, searching for the words to say. "There's a lot you don't know about _me,_" he added.

I was trying to think of what he could possibly be so nervous about saying and what could possibly be so important. "What? Are you like a convicted felon or something?" I asked the first thing that popped into my head.

Quil snorted with nervous laughter. "No, it's nothing like that." He stopped pacing for a moment to give me a hard look. "There's a lot you don't know about _us_."

I was beginning to get really confused. "Okay, okay. There's a lot I don't know. Spit it out."

"Don't freak out, okay?"

"When do I ever freak out?" I got a skeptical look in return.

Quil ran another nervous hand through his hair. He opened an closed his mouth several times before he finally got brave enough to say, "I am – and so is Jake, Embry, Seth, Leah, even your uncle Sam, and a bunch of others – we're all _werewolves_."

There was a certain strain on the last word that made it stand out in my mind, even as my mind went directly into disbelief-mode. "Really?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I started laughing. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's not funny. I'm serious." And he certainly did look quite serious. Serious enough to make me pause.

"What? Quil, werewolves don't exist."

"They do. I mean, I'm not like a howl-at-the-moon-crazy werewolf, but yeah. They do exist. And I am one."

I scrambled out of bed and put it between me and Quil. "Have you flipped? Seriously. You're scaring me a little bit.

"Just listen to me, okay Claire?" He sighed. "I should have told you this years ago. Look, I can show you. But not in here. Let's go outside."

"I'm not going anywhere. Is this a joke? Because this isn't really all that funny. Be honest."

"It's not a joke. It's real. Do you trust me?" He held his hand out to me.

I studied his face for a long moment. There was no hint of a lie in it, and Quil was usually a worse liar than I was. I reminded myself that this was Quil – my Quil. Of course I trusted him. Part of my brain railed against it, but I figured I should at least give him a chance. I slowly walked around to his side of the bed and slid my hand into his.

A goofy grin broke across his face. "Okay, c'mon. I'll show you." He led me downstairs. My family was in the living room. "We're just going outside for a moment," Quil told them. My mother nodded silently, and, looking back on it, with a little too much understanding – but I didn't notice at the time. Instead, I shuffled outside in my pajamas with Quil.

He stopped in the front yard and let go of my hand. "Wait here," he told me. He took off into the woods, peeling off his t-shirt as he went. A few moments later, a huge chocolate brown wolf emerged from the woods in the exact spot Quil had disappeared at. I felt my eyes get huge and I stumbled back a few steps, unable to speak. The wolf was the biggest wolf I'd ever seen. It stopped several yards away from me, seeing my shock and fear. I stared at it for a long moment. Looking into the dark brown eyes, I knew.

The wolf whined questioningly.

"Quil?" I weakly stammered.

The wolf barked in an unmistakably happy tone and wagged its tail.

I'd never considered myself a weak woman or the fragile-as-a-flower type. But that was about the time I fainted.

* * *

I came to almost immediately. Quil hadn't even had time to transform back into a human, and he was whining and licking my face. His fur tickled my nose. I swatted him away drowsily. At my movement, he yelped happily and sat by my side. My eyes fluttered open and I groaned loudly. "You're too close to the house," I muttered, articulating my first thought. "My family will see you."

The wolf – _Quil, _I mentally corrected myself – shook its head vigorously. He suddenly bolted into the woods again and came back a few moments later, back in human form, still clasping his belt. "They already know. Your parents do, anyway."

"They _what_?" I demanded, sitting up too quickly. I groaned again, putting my hand to my head. "Everyone knew but me?" I felt my anger rising again, but stifled it. That conversation with my parents was for another day.

"I wanted to tell you so many times," Quil said, his face crinkled with worry. He knelt next to me. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine." Rubbing my eyes, another thought occurred to me. "So why are you telling me now?"

He suddenly looked nervous again. "Because it has to do with the other things I was telling you. But I think that's enough for one day."

"Nuh-uh," I replied. "All or nothing, Quil. You already started."

Quil swallowed audibly. "You know, I really don't think now is the time. I think maybe tomorrow would be better. Your nerves are frazzled."

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"Okay, well, _my_ nerves are frazzled."

"Oh, quit being a pussy. Just tell me."

"No, Claire. Really," Quil answered. "Besides, I was kind of hoping you would figure it out on your own."

I huffed indignantly, but I had a feeling that for once, Quil wasn't going to crack. "Okay. But you have to promise to tell me before the week's up if I don't figure it out." Quil looked like he was going to ask for more time, but I gave him Bambi eyes and said, "Please?"

That was enough. He smiled reluctantly. "All right. One week." He stood up and helped me carefully to my feet.

I put my arm around his waist for support as I was still feeling slightly dizzy. We started up the stairs of my porch to go back inside. "That is pretty cool, though, by the way. The whole wolf thing," I said.

He grinned. "Yeah, it is pretty cool. Most of the time," he added on as an afterthought.

"How could that not be cool?" I asked as we reached the front door.

"There's a lot of not cool things." He paused before he opened the door. "Sam is the pack leader. The Alpha. If he orders me to do something, I have to do it."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ugh. That does kinda suck."

"Yeah. And when we're transformed, we can hear each others' thoughts. All of us. It gets a little annoying after a while, having no privacy."

"You can hear each others' thoughts?!" I exclaimed. "Weird!" I was surprised by my own willingness to believe at this point.

"Yeah." He shrugged and grinned again. "But most of the time, it's pretty cool. Although I do have a more acute sense of smell, and you really need to brush your teeth or somethin'," he snickered, and then went inside.

Maybe it wasn't so cool after all.


	6. Partay

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Six: Partay  
Claire's POV

A/N: Okay, so this was posted four hours after the promised October 26th, but it's the longest chapter yet, so forgive me. Oh, AND **PLEASE REVIEW**! I love them.

Disclaimer: Just a fanfic. Don't own the Twilightverse.

* * *

The day after the big werewolf reveal, which was Sunday, was the day I chose to confront my parents about not telling me. I got them both seated on the couch. Neither of them looked particularly nervous, which annoyed me. It meant they had known this was coming and were unconcerned.

I had thought that Carly and Devon were upstairs. Little did I know they were hiding in the stairwell and eavesdropping.

"So," I began, facing them with my arms crossed. "Nobody deemed it important for me to know about this?"

"Claire, we felt it was important for Quil to tell you," my father said. "It is all about him, after all."

"Why did you guys know and I didn't?" I threw my hands out wide, as if welcoming a response.

"Because we weren't just going to let some teenage boy spend all this time with our toddler for no reason," my mother replied.

"So...instead, you let a teenage werewolf hang out with your toddler for no reason? I'm failing to see how that made it better. Not that I'm complaining. I just don't understand your reasoning."

My parents looked confused. They looked at each other, then back at me. "What did Quil tell you?" my dad asked.

"Wait, you guys didn't know he was a werewolf? He said you knew." Now I was confused.

My mother waved her hand, dismissive and impatient. "No, no, we knew that. What your father meant was, how _much _did Quil tell you?"

It dawned on me that they were talking about whatever it had been that Quil wanted me to figure out on my own. "He told me he was a werewolf. And he said there was something else, but he wanted me to figure that part out on my own. Although I made him promise he'd tell me in a week if I didn't." Another thought occurred to me. "You guys should tell me! To y'know, like, make up for all the years of secrecy and lies!" I proclaimed.

"Claire," my father began.

"John, don't you tell her!" my mother interrupted. "That is between her and Quil!"

"I wasn't going to tell her!" my father insisted, laughing softly.

"Pleeeaase?" I whined. "I've already been in the dark for soooo looonnnnggg!"

"And another week won't hurt you," my mother said, standing up as if the conversation were over.

"You people are serious, aren't you? Quil is a werewolf?"

My parents' heads and mine both turned to where Carly was standing wide-eyed next to Devon at the bottom of the stairs.

Another long conversation ensued, in which my parents carefully explained what was going on to my brother and sister. I begrudgingly noted that Carly did not faint.

* * *

Nearly a week later, on Saturday afternoon, I still hadn't figured anything out. Quil had been over for dinner on Tuesday, and on Wednesday I'd gone over to his house to watch a movie, and Thursday he'd picked me up after school and we'd gone canoeing on the lake and had a picnic. Even after all that time spent together, I felt as though I'd come no closer to figuring "It" out.

Quil wouldn't give me any hints, and neither would my parents. The only thing I noticed was that Quil seemed unusually nervous around me, like he was trying to impress me. I couldn't understand why he would act like this, and by Saturday, I'd pretty much given up figuring it out myself.

As I was fruitlessly Googling werewolves on my laptop, I received a phone call from Quil.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked, before I even said hello.

"Nothing, as usual. Why?" I clicked on a link entitled _Werewolf Folklore_. This lead me to a myriad of European myths and legends, most of which I'd already read in previous searches. I clicked the back button.

"Yeah, you don't really have a social life, do you?"

"Ha ha. I have more of one than you." I clicked on a link titled _How to Kill a Werewolf._ "Dude, I could kill you with like, a silver bullet."

"Uh. It might hurt it if you shot me. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't."

"You mean it wouldn't kill you?"

"I dunno. One probably wouldn't anyway, unless I got shot in the head or something. I don't really want to find out how many times I could get shot without dying," Quil replied.

"But it's a _silver _bullet. That should kill you," I informed him.

"What? What are you doing, Googling ways to kill werewolves?"

I snapped my laptop closed, annoyed. "No. So a silver bullet wouldn't kill you?"

"Not anymore than a regular bullet. Why are you trying to find out how to kill me anyway?"

"I'm not. What did you want to do tonight?" I asked.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to one of Embry's parties. Embry and I painted his living room. He's having a party to show it off. That's his excuse this time, anyway. But I don't think I want you to come if you're gonna shoot me," he replied.

"I'm not gonna shoot you. How late is this party going?" I reopened my laptop in spite of myself.

"Well, with Embry, who knows. But I can have you home whenever. I just wanted to see you."

"Would cutting off your head and removing your heart work? That's a surefire way to kill a werewolf," I said, reading off the computer screen.

"Yeah, that would do me in. I'm pretty sure," Quil said sarcastically.

"Okay, cool. You know if I don't figure It out by tomorrow, you have to tell me."

He knew what I was talking about. "Yeah, I know," he replied exasperatedly. This was not the first time I had reminded him.

"Anyway, let me ask my mom what time she wants me home by." I set my phone down on my desk and went to my bedroom door. Sticking my head out into the hall, I hollered, "MOM! QUIL WANTS ME TO COME OVER. WHAT TIME DO I NEED TO BE HOME?" I left out the party part.

"STOP YELLING, CLAIRE. I WANT YOU HOME BY MIDNIGHT," my mom yelled back.

"AW, C'MON! TWO!" I bartered.

Even from upstairs, I heard my mother sigh in exasperation. "ONE!" she replied.

"OKAY, THANKS," I shouted. I walked back over to the desk and picked up the phone again. "I have to be home by one."

"Why don't you just go downstairs and ask her instead of yelling?" Quil asked.

"Because that would make way too much sense. What time are you picking me up?"

"Eight."

"'Kay, I'll be ready by six," I said.

"I'm not _that _early to places," Quil said defensively.

I smiled. "Mmhm. Bye, then." I hung up.

* * *

Of course, I _wasn't_ ready by six. I wasn't even ready by eight. Quil had to wait a good half an hour before I was ready. But we got on our way, me once again consenting to riding in the truck.

I'd been to parties at Embry's before. There was always a lot of people, a lot of dancing, and a lot of beer. I'd never drank at his parties before, but everybody else sure did (except Quil, who never drank when he knew he had to drive, and Jacob, who told me he preferred watching everyone else act like idiots).

As soon as we walked through the front door, I was attacked by a not-completely-sober Embry. "Claire!" he bellowed. "I've missed you so much! Oh my God, guess what? I have to show you this. Look at my walls!" My feet were lifted off the ground as he hugged me.

I looked, but the house had no bright lights on, so I couldn't see much. "It looks awesome, Embry. Wow. I had no idea you were such an artiste."

"I know, right? That's why I decided to throw a party!" He threw his hands in the air as if to emphasize his point, but dropped me back on the floor in the process. I stumbled, but Quil caught me as Embry meandered a few feet away to talk to someone else.

"He's so sloshed," I giggled to Quil.

"Yeah, it's not too appealing. Oh, shit," Quil said suddenly, and attempted (and failed) to hide behind me.

I stared at him. "What is it?"

"Monica is here," he hissed to me, peeking around my shoulder.

I felt a strange feeling of jealousy bubble up. "Who's Monica?" I demanded.

"She's this woman I work with down at Jake's shop. She's the receptionist." He crouched lower, still attempting to hide.

I didn't like how he used the word "woman." I scanned the crowd looking for someone who might be a receptionist. "Why are you hiding? And which one is she?"

"Because. She won't leave me alone. She's the one with the red hair."

My eyes found who he was talking about. I was pleased with the fact that she wasn't very pretty, although her hair did shine in a very eye-catching way. I furiously worked on finding her every flaw. "Why don't you tell her to leave you alone?" I asked, more than reasonably annoyed.

"Because I don't want to be mean," he told me, just as Monica spotted him.

"Quil!" she cried with a toothy smile, her voice a little too nasally for my taste. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Quil quickly straightened up, putting on a smile that I could tell was forced. It still didn't make me any happier. "I dropped something," he lied. It was fairly obvious that he was lying, but Monica didn't push it. Her gaze fell on me when it became obvious I was there with Quil.

"Is this your little sister?" she asked. She never took her eyes off of me and she never stopped smiling, but I could tell the question was a little spiteful. Quil and I in no way looked related.

Laughing nervously, perhaps because of the murderous look in my eyes, Quil said, "Oh, no. This is my friend, Claire."

Monica did not offer to shake hands and neither did I. Instead, she asked, "Your friend? How old are you, Claire?"

"Eighteen," I lied. It was close enough. My birthday was only a couple weeks away.

"Really?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting up. Her gaze shifted to Quil. "I didn't know you were dating anyone. Particularly anyone so _young_."

I felt a rabid feeling of anger rising in me, but I attempted to stifle it, if only because Quil was there. He didn't like it when I antagonized people. "We're not dating," I told her through gritted teeth. I turned to Quil. "I'm going to get a drink." I started to walk towards the kitchen. I needed to cool off.

"There's some nice hot dogs in there, Claire!" Embry said, somehow overhearing the last part of what I said over the music.

"Shut up, Embry," I snapped.

Monica's eyebrows went even higher at my rudeness.

I heard Quil explain, "He's making fun of her. He's only doing that because she's a vegetarian."

"Oh, but that's my favorite thing to do around vegetarians!" Monica said loudly, laughing.

I stared at her audacity for a long moment, willing myself to not punch her in the face. I wanted to say something like, "My favorite thing to do around stupid people is to bitch slap them," followed by said bitch slap, but I didn't. Somehow imagining it wasn't as fulfilling though. I turned on my heel and went into the kitchen.

At first I went to the fridge to see what soda Embry had, but then paused. I glanced over at the table where the beer was sitting. Without any serious thought, I grabbed one beer and drank it as quickly as possible, grimacing slightly at the taste. I then grabbed another and drank half of it as quickly as the first before I saw the vodka shots. I grabbed one, and, taking my cue from the others in the kitchen, drank the shot. Then I took another. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I wasn't too concerned at the time.

I grabbed my beer again and started back towards Quil. Embry saw the beer bottle in my hand as I passed and shouted, "WHOO! Party on, Claire!" This caused Quil to look my way and see the beer. His eyes widened slightly before giving me a very stern look. I simply smirked and shrugged at him, daring him to say anything.

Monica completely ignored me. She continued to prattle at Quil, flirting with him. She lead him over to the sofa, edging around all the dancing bodies, and sat him down. She pointedly left no room on the couch for me. Quil looked extremely awkward and uncomfortable. When she put her hand on his knee, I found myself taking a very angry swig out of my bottle. A vicious idea occurred to me. I stepped a little bit closer to her and pretended to be shoved by somebody dancing, spilling the rest of my beer all down her front. At this point, I was far from sober, and couldn't keep from laughing as I said, "Oops! Sorry about that!"

At first I thought she was going to slap me, but instead she just stood up, glared at me, said goodbye to Quil, and left. I collapsed in her vacant spot on the couch in a fit of giggles. "Ohmygosh whata biiiiitch!" I squealed.

Quil looked at me very seriously. "Claire, what are you doing? Are you drunk?"

I quit giggling long enough to look haughty. "No. Although I may be a little tipsy," I admitted.

"How much have you had?"

"Ummmm, two shots and a beer and three-quarters."

"Claire! God dammit, Claire, what is the matter with you?" Quil scolded.

I was hurt. Quil had never really been angry with me before. "You're the one who brought me here," I reminded him.

"I've brought you here before and you've never done this. I thought you knew better."

"I didn't have that much," I told him, pouting.

"You don't drink. You're not used to it, and you weigh like 100 pounds. I think you had enough," he snapped back at me.

"I weigh 110 pounds," I corrected.

"It doesn't matter! What is your mom gonna say when I bring you home drunk?" he asked me.

"I dunno. I don't really care. And I wasn't the one with nasty Poison Ivy hanging all over me," I said.

"Poison Ivy?"

"Like in the Batman comics. Poison Ivy. She's a redhead. Never friggin' mind, apparently you don't even appreciate Batman."

"Are you referring to Monica?" he asked incredulously.

"No," I replied sarcastically, "I'm referring to the other redhead who was all over you a few minutes ago. There were two, didn't you know?"

"You're jealous."

"I am not. I just thought you had better taste than that," I told him.

"I don't _like_ her," Quil insisted.

"Right. That's why you let her hang all over you for so long."

"This is unbelievable! You're unbelievable!" Quil exploded, then suddenly got off the couch and went towards the kitchen. I followed.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

Quil picked up a full shot glass. "If you can be drunk, so can I," he said, before emptying the tiny glass. He reached for another one.

"Who's gonna drive me home?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"Don't know. You can walk. You don't like cars anyway." He drank two more.

"You're being irrational!" I said, frustrated and annoyed.

Picking up a fourth, he said, "I'm being irrational. Right. I'm the one who poured my beer all over someone." He tipped his head back and emptied the shot glass, grimacing.

"Stop it," I ordered him. He didn't listen, grabbing two more. I made an extremely angry noise and stomped out of the kitchen. I elbowed through the dancing people instead of walking around, and reclaimed my spot on the sofa. I crossed my arms and pouted.

Several minutes and two guys hitting on me later, Quil reemerged from the kitchen. He spotted me and made his way over.

"How many did you end up having?" I asked snottily.

"Eight, I think," he replied.

"EIGHT?!" I cried.

He shrugged in a way I found to be annoyingly macho. "I've had more before."

"Are we still fighting?" I asked after a moment.

Quil sat down next to me. "No. Not unless you want to."

"I don't want to."

"Okay."

A few more moments of silence between us followed before I said, "Do you really not like her?"

"Oh my God, Claire, no," Quil said emphatically.

"Good." Then I started giggling uncontrollably again.

Quil stared at me, then he cracked a smile, and asked, "What are we laughing at?"

"Her face when I spilled all over her," I managed to say.

He started to crack up as well. "Okay, okay. I gotta admit, that was funny." After both of our giggle fits had subsided, Quil got a funny look on his face. "Dance with me." It wasn't a question.

Under normal circumstances, I never would have danced in public, even with Quil. The only times I dance are in musicals. But as I was drunk, this was not a normal circumstance. So I shrugged and agreed.

At first it was strange to dance with Quil. He was well over a foot taller than me. But I quickly forgot as I was wrapped up in the music and the people and the dancing. Though I'd never danced with a guy before, I was unusually uninhibited. It was a fast song and I somehow found it in me to just dance.

"I had a really good comeback to her vegetarian comment," I said. "Do you know how frustrating it is to be witty enough to think of a comeback on the spot and then have the decency not to use it?"

"Did you just call yourself witty?" Quil chuckled.

"Only occasionally," I corrected.

"I know what you mean, though. It's definitely hard to be decent around you, Claire."

I felt my heart accelerate a little bit. Did that comment have the double meaning I thought it did? "That's not quite what I said," I told him.

"No, that's what _I _said," he admitted with a mischievous smile. Just then the song ended, breaking the spell.

I glanced at my watch. "How did it get to be ten-thirty already?"

"I dunno. But you still have two and a half hours before you need to be home," Quil replied.

"But you can't drive me. Maybe I should call my mom."

"Nah, not yet. If you want to leave though, we can go to my house. It's only a ten minute walk, and we could watch a movie or something."

I looked around. I was definitely over the party already. "Yeah, let's go."

We said goodbye to Embry and Jake and left the party. Outside in the cool night air, I breathed deeply. Quil put his arm around me to keep me warm and we started off towards his house. "So will you tell me at midnight?" I asked after a moment.

Again, he knew what I was talking about. "No."

"Aw, c'mon."

He smiled. "No. You said a week. We made our deal at noon on Sunday."

"I have to wait until noon tomorrow?!" I asked in a very whiny tone.

"Yep. I don't think thirteen more hours will kill you."

"It might," I grumbled. "Do you really think that I'm going to figure it out in thirteen hours? Most of that time will be spent sleeping."

He shrugged. "You might. We'll just have to wait and see, now won't we?"


	7. Of Metabolisms and Churning Stomachs

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Seven: Of Metabolisms and Churning Stomachs  
Claire's POV

A/N: HOW long has it been?! Honestly, I'll be surprised if anyone reads this at all, but here it is. Sorry for any typos, spelling errors, etc. It is 3 in the morning after all.

Disclaimer: Been trying for the last several months, but sadly I still don't own it.

* * *

Upon reaching Quil's house, I set myself about making popcorn while he picked out a movie to watch. I decided that if I wanted to get any popcorn, I'd best make a massive amount, as Quil was sure to eat tons of it. As I put the third bag into the microwave, I suddenly felt Quil behind me. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and said, "Mm, that smells good."

Although he was sniffing in the general direction of the popcorn, I wondered if that's what he was really talking about. I giggled, rather drunkenly.

"Claire, Claire, Claire...," he admonished playfully, releasing his arms from around me. "I can't believe you're drunk."

"Let it go, Ateara," I snapped, feeling cool air rush onto my back where he'd been. "You are, too."

The microwave beeped and Quil got the popcorn out, adding it to the enormous bowl already sitting on the counter. "Am not," he replied.

"Are too."

"Nope," he said, grabbing the bowl and heading towards the TV. "Super fast metabolism. It's a wolf thing," he added with a wink.

"You're not drunk?" I asked, having a hard time with this one.

"No, Claire. I am not," he said patiently.

"Were you before?" I demanded.

"Uh, tipsy, yes."

"But you're not now."

He paused to look back at me. "_No_," he replied, putting emphasis on the word.

"That's not fair!" I cried. I was disproportionately angry. "You suck," I said, though I followed him into the other room and promptly plopped down on the couch next to him. I felt weird. But good. I giggled again, forgetting I was mad.

"Stop giggling, it doesn't become you," he said as he flipped on the movie.

I scooted away from him on the couch as far as I could go and pouted. "Fine. I won't laugh anymore around you. My bad."

He didn't even look at me, but I could see the grin on his face. "You weren't laughing, you were giggling like a four year old."

"You're trying to provoke me," I said, sinking further into the couch and vowing to ignore him.

"Absolutely."

I stuck my tongue out at him, having immediately forgotten my vow.

A few minutes into the movie, which I was having a hard time following beyond the fact that the lead was devilishly handsome, I felt a hot hand wrap around my ankle. I turned to look at it, and then I was being pulled bodily into Quil's arms. "You need to stop pouting," he said, in response to my surprised grunts.

"I'm not pouting," I snapped, and promptly began to once again. I put both of my hands against his chest and pushed, trying to free myself. He only tightened his grip, in response to which I began to beat on him with my fists as hard as I could. It infuriated me when he started to laugh.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said, eyeing my small fists pounding against his chest. "And you're missing the movie."

"I don't care. Let me go, you ogre."

"Ogre?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows and chuckling.

I finally heaved a dramatic sigh and turned to face the TV screen, resigning myself to sitting in his lap. I crossed my arms just to make sure he knew I was pissed though.

As the movie went on, I got distracted from my anger by how good it felt to have Quil's arms wrapped around my middle like that. I tried to push that thought from my head, but it seemed like all my thoughts were a mess at the moment, and I couldn't really control which ones took precedent over the others. To make matters worse, the lead couple in the movie finally kissed, and a rogue thought flew across my brain in flashing neon.

I wondered what it would be like to kiss Quil like that.

I made a tiny gasping noise and stiffened. Oh, shit. Why did I like that idea so much? Why, why, _whywhywhy_? It was a terribly difficult thought to dismiss when the object of said thought currently was resting his chin on my shoulder and breathing hotly against my neck. I felt myself stiffen further. I tried to make myself stop thinking about it. It was Quil, for gosh sakes. I'd known him since I had no control over my bowel movements. How could I possibly be thinking about this now?

I made a mental note not to get drunk anymore.

"Are you all right, Claire? You seem tense," Quil asked quietly. I shivered involuntarily as his chest vibrated behind me with his voice.

Oh my god, stop it, Claire, I mentally scolded myself. Get a hold of yourself, woman. "I'm fine," I said out loud, although even to my drunk ears my voice sounded oddly thin. I felt him shrug behind me.

I thought maybe I would make it once the onscreen lovers were done macking, but then Quil had to start tracing an incoherent pattern on my thigh with his finger. I felt my insides tighten and squirm in a way that felt not dissimilar to stage fright. Although much more pleasant. I shook my head violently at the thought. My hair whipped in Quil's face when I did so.

"Seriously, what's the matter?" he asked.

At least his damn finger had stopped. But as soon as I thought this, I realized that now his whole hand was pressed against my upper leg, and I knew he was trying to comfort me because he thought something was wrong. Oh, but he had _no idea_ how wrong something was. I tried valiantly to reply, but ended up gaping like a fish because all I could focus on was the heat of his palm radiating through my jeans. And the hand on my stomach, I realized. That one was no better.

He finally turned me around in his lap to face him. I could see that his brows were furrowed in concern, and I had the most ridiculous desire to reach out and touch that line that formed between them.

"Are you sick? Are you going to throw up?" he asked, genuinely worried. "You look weird." His mouth was turned down ever so slightly in a frown. My eyes shifted from the worry line on his forehead to the corner of his mouth. "Claire?" he asked. Then he realized I was completely and utterly fixated on his lips. "Claire," he repeated, although this time sounding much less like a question and much more...hopeful?

I lost my battle with self control then, though it hadn't been much of a battle in the first place. I felt myself leaning forward, still fascinated by the corner of his mouth. I paused for a moment only centimeters away from his face, noticing how completely still he was, like he didn't want to scare me away. Or maybe he was afraid of me. I smiled slightly at the thought, and then I pressed my lips against that oh-so-interesting spot on his mouth. I could not believe how hot his skin was against my lips. He still didn't move a muscle.

I pulled back for a second. I then realized that he had_ two_ of these mouth-corners, and I promptly moved so that I could kiss the other one. After another moment, I heard him suddenly release the breath he'd been holding. I smiled against his skin. I think this is what undid him, because then he finally moved, turning his head slightly so he could kiss me back. I heard a sound, something like, "mmm," and then I realized I was the one making it.

I felt his hands come to rest lightly on my waist, as if he were unsure. I thought rather distractedly that I wanted to _make him sure_. Breaking the contact between our lips for a moment, I shifted myself so that I was straddling his lap. I leaned forward again to kiss him, hoping we could quickly progress beyond chaste kisses. I pressed my lips against his eagerly, and he gripped my waist more tightly. But then he suddenly pulled away from me, and I huffed in frustration.

"Claire," he said, and his voice was weak. He cleared his throat. "Claire," he tried again.

I wasn't listening. I kept staring at his mouth.

"Claire," he said more insistently.

I finally focused, meeting his gaze.

"We shouldn't...," he began, then coughed awkwardly. "Not right now. Not while you're -"

"I'm not drunk!" I interrupted, suddenly realizing he was telling me no. My face burned and I shoved myself off him a bit too violently, sending myself crashing ungracefully to the floor.

He laughed, even as he tried to help me up, because that's how Quil is. "You're not?" he asked skeptically.

I swatted his hands away from me and scrambled backwards on the ground. "Don't."

His laughter stopped. He should have known not to laugh at me just then. "Claire -"

"Don't!" I repeated, and I felt my eyes filling with tears even as I realized I was being a baby. So Quil didn't want me. Big deal. I'd never wanted him before five minutes ago anyway.

Quil got down on the floor next to me, though he was hesitant to touch me. "Claire, honey."

I looked up at him and I was sure I looked like hell, but I didn't care. "What did I do wrong?" I asked, sounding awfully pathetic. I tried to mentally slap myself to make myself knock it off, but that didn't seem to work, so I actually slapped myself.

"Woah, woah, woah!" he said, grabbing the hand I'd hit myself with. "Don't do that! You didn't do anything wrong!"

My cheek stung from the slap and I realized how stupid I was. This only made me cry more. Not only had I just made a douche bag of myself by kissing Quil, I was also dumb enough to hit myself. Gold star for me.

"Claire, please, don't cry." Quil was pulling me into his arms again, this time on the floor. I wanted to fight and to say that I didn't want to be held by a man who didn't want me, but I seemed to be having trouble articulating thoughts through my crying hiccups. He started to rock me back and forth gently, rubbing my back. At one point he wiped the snot from my nose with his sleeve. I felt dreadfully unsexy.

I finally started to get a hold of myself, and once I did, I was immediately butt hurt and angry again. I shoved myself out of his lap. "I'd like to go home," I said, standing awkwardly.

His hand grabbed mine from his seated position. "Claire, stop."

I pulled my hand away. "It's okay, Quil. I get it. I know I'm just seventeen. It was stupid. I just want to go home and go to bed and forget it." I left off the part about how I would also be trying to forget that my first kiss had just blown up in my face.

"It's not that!" he insisted, standing up.

"What is it then?" I demanded, trying my best to give him a patented Claire Death Glare while having puffy, red eyes and mascara running down my cheeks.

"I just...you _are_ drunk. I don't want it to be like this," he said, as tenderly as possible.

The only part that registered in my brain was "don't want," so I turned on my heel gracelessly and started towards the door. I would walk home if I had to. To my chagrin, he followed me. I heard him talking at me behind me, but I didn't hear much of it until I reached out for the door handle. At that point, Quil grabbed my shoulders and turned me completely around to face him.

He looked a little pissed off himself at this point. "Seriously, Claire, would you listen to me for once in your life?" He sighed heavily. "It's not that I don't want you. You have no idea how not true that is," he said, looking pointedly at the ceiling.

It took me a moment to process that. "You mean you do want me?" I asked after a moment, and stepped towards him hesitantly.

Still staring up at the ceiling, he replied uncomfortably, "You have _no_ idea."

I cocked my head questioningly. What did _that_ mean? I took another step towards him. He finally looked at me when he felt me invade his personal space. I was standing on my tiptoes, hoping to kiss him again. God, my head felt fuzzy.

He put his hands up in a defensive gesture and shook his head. "I can't when you're...intoxicated."

I lost my balance on my toes and stumbled into his chest. I stomped my foot in anger. "Dammit, Quil, do you want me or not?"

"I'm taking you home. This is my fault," he said, his shoulders suddenly sagging. That made me feel a little bit bad. But not too bad.

"I don't want to go home," I replied, crossing my arms.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, looking supremely tested. "You just said two minutes ago you wanted me to take you home."

Oh. I had. I shook the thought out of my head. "I changed my mind." I then grinned wickedly. "I'd rather kiss you."

The next moment found me somehow pressed against the door by Quil's body. I was wondering when that happened. "Claire," he growled, and I could full-heartedly believe the man was part wolf. He leaned closer, so that he was speaking right into my ear. "You're making it _really_ hard for me to be a gentleman right now, in more ways than one."

I felt myself melting as his hot breath washed over my ear. Even in my drunken state, I had no problem catching his double entendre.

"But it doesn't feel right for it to be like this, not after all this time," he said, and took a step back from me.

I blinked. "After all this time?" I repeated slowly. My stomach had started churning, and it was no longer in a pleasant way.

He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "This is what I wanted to tell you!" he said, looking anywhere but at me.

I meant to say, "Tell me what?" but that was when a load of barf came out instead.


	8. The Rest of the Truth

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Eight: The Rest of the Truth  
Claire's POV

Disclaimer: I'm dirt broke. So clearly, I don't own Twilight.

A/N: I promise the humor will be back in the next chapters! I just felt this chapter was a necessary evil, so here it is in all its glory. You know Claire has a flair for the dramatic...

Btw, if you want to listen to a song that has inspired me a lot on this fic, look up "Out of My League" by the band Stephen Speaks.

* * *

I was staring at the puke on Quil's shirt. "I can't believe I just barfed on you," I said weakly.

Quil, who had led me over to the couch and was busy washing off my face with a damp wash cloth, merely grunted in response. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was covered in my vomit and was insisting on tending to me.

"Holy shit, I just barfed. All. Over. You."

That worry line was back between his eyebrows. "Sorry, is it bothering you?" he asked, dabbing at my forehead gently.

I grabbed at his wrist to stop him for a second. "Yes. It is bothering me that my partially digested dinner is currently on your shirt."

A chuckle escaped him. "It's actually mostly your alcohol," he said, relenting and putting the wash cloth down.

"Oh?" I asked, shutting my eyes against the thought.

"Yeah. That's what it smells like."

"Hyper doggy senses?" I asked, clenching my eyes shut tighter and wrinkling my nose.

"I guess you could say that," he replied.

"Because all barf pretty much smells the same to me. And it smells pretty gross." I turned my nose into the couch cushion away from Quil and the barf in question. I felt shaky and weak. I actually felt like crying again. I was glad my face was turned away.

"Fine," he said with a laugh. "I'll lose the damn shirt."

I couldn't resist peeking as he carefully peeled his soiled shirt off and walked into the other room to toss it into the laundry. He was pulling a clean shirt on as he returned, and seeing his copper skin reminded me suddenly and forcefully of the fact that I had practically attacked him. I groaned out loud and felt tears pricking my eyes.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "What's the matter?" He paused several feet away from me. "Are you going to throw up again?"

"No," I sniffled.

Quil approached me and I buried my face into the couch again. He gently put a warm hand on my back. "What's the matter, Claire?"

"Mmsfnnmmd."

"What?" he asked. "I have no idea what you just said."

"I'm so freaking embarrassed!" I wailed.

"Why?" he demanded, looking surprised.

"Because I mauled you and then I spewed all over you!" I said, feeling tears slip down my cheeks before they disappeared into the fabric of the couch.

"Don't be," he insisted reassuringly. "Let's just get you to bed, little girl. I'll call your mom and tell her where you are."

I gasped. "Don't tell her what happened!"

He smiled placatingly. "I won't, don't worry." He scooped me into his arms and carried me into his bedroom, where he carefully deposited me into the bed. I was still sniffling when he tucked me in. "Just sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up." Leaning over, he kissed my forehead and then walked towards the door. "Good night, Claire," he added, pausing by the door.

"Night, Quil," I replied, already feeling drowsy. I heard him go into the kitchen, and a few minutes later I heard the sound of his voice as he spoke to my mother on the phone. It was this sound that lulled me to sleep.

* * *

I most definitely did _not_ feel better when I woke up. My mouth was dry and had the aftertaste of vomit, I had a headache, and I was fairly certain I had not only kissed Quil, but had been royally shut down. The light streaming through the blinds on the window above the bed was not improving my mood. I squinted at the digital clock on the bedside table, and saw that it was nearly three in the afternoon.

"Shit," I groaned, collapsing back onto the pillow face down.

I heard footsteps hurrying towards the bedroom. There was a dramatic gasp from the doorway. "It's aliiiiiive!" Quil cried.

Flipping the bird in his general direction, I said nothing.

The end of the bed sagged with his weight as he plopped down. "That's not very nice, considering I let you sleep in my bed and covered for you with your mom. All this after you puked on me."

I gritted my teeth. I'd been hoping that particular memory had been something I'd dreamed. "Go 'way," I muttered, not in the mood for this.

He began fiddling with my toes. "Not feeling too good, pookie?"

Pulling my foot away from him, I rolled over enough to glare. "Screw you."

"You're a bit hungover."

"Go a_way_."

"You know, I've never been hungover. I didn't start drinking until after I started to shift. What's it like?" he asked, and it annoyed me to no end that he sounded genuinely curious.

"It makes me want to frigging kill you, that's what it's like." I scrambled up enough to pull the blinds over the bed shut, then collapsed again.

He crawled further up the bed and sat cross-legged next to me, rubbing my back reassuringly. I swatted at his hand. "Can I get you anything?" he asked, the teasing gone from his voice.

"Water would be nice," I relented. "And maybe some Advil or something."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied and immediately set off to get it. He came back and he also had brought crackers with him, which I was grateful for even if I didn't say so.

I had taken the medicine and was gulping down the water when I realized he was watching me closely. "What?" I demanded.

He shook his head, laughing rather nervously. "I was just wondering what you were thinking about."

Taking another sip and trying to ignore the pounding in my head, I thought for a moment before replying. "I'm thinking about what happened last night," I finally answered honestly.

"Oh?" he asked, waiting for me to continue.

"Yeah," I said, setting my glass down and reaching for a cracker, which I nibbled at. "I'm thinking about how I'm pretty sure I kissed you?" I said, aware that it sounded like a question. I added the butterflies in my stomach to my list of body issues to ignore for the moment.

"You did," he replied.

I swallowed audibly. "I did," I repeated. Sighing, I said, "I'm putting this conversation on pause for two minutes. I need to brush my teeth." This was also a convenient excuse for me to think for a few moments.

He nodded silently, and I stumbled towards the bathroom. I pulled the toothbrush I kept there out of the drawer, and as I scrubbed the bad taste out of my mouth, I tried to wrap my mind around the sudden new facet I had added to my relationship with Quil. I told myself that I hoped he would allow me to forget about it, but a deeper part of me, a part that knew me better than I'd like to admit, was hoping that he would just kiss me again. I finished brushing my teeth and decided to wash my face as well. I then made my way back to the bedroom, where Quil was sitting patiently on the bed.

He looked up when I entered. I forced myself to look at his eyes rather than his lips and leaned against the doorframe, hoping the fluttering of my heart was not visible on my face.

"So," I began, then shut my mouth again. I had no idea what to say. I stared awkwardly at the floor.

"Why'd you kiss me, Claire?" he asked suddenly.

I shuffled my feet. "Well...I think it was because the people in the movie were kissing, and then I wondered what it would be like to kiss you, and then I did." I said all of this very fast.

"Just a whim, then?"

My head snapped up to look at him. Had he sounded disappointed, or was my mind playing tricks on me? "I guess so," I said.

He nodded and stood from the bed, looking resigned. "I figured as much," he said. He walked across the room, and turned sideways to sidle past me through the door.

Before I thought about it, my hand had reached out and pressed against his chest to stop him. He looked at me questioningly, and I cursed the way the heat of his skin seemed to shoot straight through my body. Why had I never noticed this before? I felt my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, bunching it into my fist. He looked down at my hand and stared as if transfixed.

I tugged on his shirt gently, and he willingly stepped closer to me. I threw caution to the wind, lifting up on my toes to bring my face as close to his as I could. He hesitated for a moment, and I wondered if I had misjudged something, but then he closed the distance between our faces and pressed his lips against mine tenderly.

His arms slid around my back and pulled me closer against him as he broke this kiss. At some point my eyes had slid shut, and I sighed, slightly breathless. It felt so good to kiss Quil, so...right. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pressed his forehead to mine. This is Quil! screamed a voice in the back of my head. Your best friend! My mind was reeling, but I didn't give myself time to think through all the implications of what was happening before I kissed him again and all the rational thoughts in my head evaporated.

Quil's tongue found it's way inside my mouth and I froze for a moment, unused to such a thing. It took me a moment to decide that I did, in fact, like the feeling, and I kissed him with fervor. One of his huge hands wove into my hair. I was just marveling at how wonderful it all was feeling, and how it was weird how it didn't feel weird at all, when Quil stopped kissing me.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that," he whispered, his hot breath washing over my face.

As he said that, something clicked in my head, and my eyes snapped open. "Last night you said – last night you said stuff like that, too. And then you said something like, 'This is what I wanted to tell you!'" I glanced over at the clock, remembering his promise to tell me _It_ at noon today. "Is this the same thing you were supposed to tell me three hours ago?" I demanded.

Suddenly, Quil looked nervous all over again. He released me from his arms and sat back down on the bed, running his hand through his hair. "Claire," he started, then faltered.

"Out with it, Ateara," I insisted, crossing my arms, feeling like myself for the first time all day. "I waited a week, just like you wanted me to."

"It's like this," he said. "The wolves...we do this thing called 'imprinting.' It basically just facilitates finding your soul mate, you know?"

I was a little confused about how this was related to me. "I've never really believed in the whole 'soul mate' thing, but okay. Go on."

"Well, see, Jared imprinted on Kim. Sam imprinted on Emily. Paul imprinted on Rachel. The moment the wolf saw them, they knew. It's instantaneous. It's earth-shattering. You know right away."

I thought about those couples, and how in love they all were. How perfect they all were for each other. "I guess that's cool," I said slowly.

"Yeah, it is," he said eagerly, pouncing on my seeming acceptance. "And once a wolf imprints, that's it. There is nobody else."

"Does the – the imprintee, or whatever, have any choice in this? I mean, that doesn't seem fair. What if she doesn't love the wolf?" I asked, suddenly seeing a million different things wrong with this.

"That's never happened before. They're always perfect."

"No, no, no. Where's the choice, though? Isn't part of love about _choosing_ someone?" I asked.

Quil looked discomfited. "Well, yes. But the general idea is that it's who you would end up choosing anyway. I mean for both," he added, seeing my face.

"Okay, what about Jacob? And Seth, and Leah? Have they imprinted?" I decided to dismiss the moral ambiguity of the whole thing for the time being. So long as it wasn't me, I supposed I couldn't judge.

"No, they haven't. Not everybody does," Quil replied nervously.

"Wait. What about...." I froze, suddenly wondering if I knew where this was leading. "What about you?" I managed to ask weakly.

He shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I imprinted," he answered. "A long time ago."

I thought I might pass out. "On who?" I asked, although I was fairly certain I already knew the answer.

Watching my face carefully, he replied, "On you."

"On me." I found I was unable to move. A million thoughts and emotions were racing through me at once. "You imprinted on me."

"Yes." He was looking at me like waiting for a bomb to explode.

Which was probably an accurate assessment of how I would react, as of all the emotions I had to choose from, I finally settled on anger. It was like a dam breaking. "You imprinted on me?!" I cried, hearing my voice rise and not caring to stop it.

"Yes," he repeated, wincing.

"The first time you saw me?"

Grimacing, he nodded.

"You imprinted on a _toddler_?!" I shouted incredulously.

"It's not like that!" he said hurriedly. "I didn't feel _that_ way about you for a long time! It's only been in the last couple years that I've even _considered_ -"

"So you've been running around for the last fourteen or fifteen years, telling everyone I'm your _soul mate_," I spat, interrupting him, "and you never deemed it important to _talk this over with me_?"

"I would've kept my mouth shut if I'd known you'd react like this!" he cried defensively. "But seeing as you were kissing me of your own free will, I figured it was a good time to let you know!"

I bent down to pick up a book that was lying on the floor of his room and chucked it at his head. He swatted it away easily.

"What the hell, Claire?!" he said, standing.

"I wouldn't be with someone who _lied _to me my whole life, for one thing!" I was flat-out screaming at this point. "And for another, I would _never _be with someone if I didn't get to CHOOSE IT!" With that, I stormed out of the room, ignoring the hurt look on his face.

I grabbed my cell phone from the kitchen counter where I'd left it the night before, and by the time I was almost to the door, he had snapped to it and had caught up with me. He reached out and touched my arm, saying my name pleadingly, but I jerked away, hissing, "Don't touch me!" I wrenched the front door open and stomped out of the house.

"Claire, please don't go," I heard him say.

I wheeled around to look at him, and even at over a foot taller than me, he cowered. "Don't even think about coming near me, Quil, do you understand me? I refuse to just be complacent with this_ thing_ that you're all masquerading as love. I refuse." My voice cracked on the last word, and I realized I was crying again. I shook my head at him in disgust, and turned away from him and started walking.

"Where are you going?" he asked, defeated.

"Away from you," I replied with as much force as I could.


	9. Advice and Friendship

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Nine: Advice and Friendship  
Claire's POV

A/N: ...in which Claire wants everything, Leah makes an appearance, and Jacob sees far too much of his own past his Quil's dilemma! And also in which I apologize for the long silence!

* * *

I'd only made it a few hundred yards from Quil's house before I realized I had no idea where I was going. Walking all the way home was not an option, and I didn't feel like calling someone to come pick me up. Going back to Quil's house was out of the question as well. I stood frozen in the middle of the road for a minute, indecisive.

A thought hit me like inspiration, and I turned to walk in the opposite direction I'd been going. Over the years, I'd learned that there was one person I could always count on for honest and blunt, if not always solicited, advice.

I skirted Quil's house on the far side of the road, walking by without giving it a glance. About half a mile down the road, I came to the house I wanted, a ramshackle little thing on the beach. I paused to try to wipe at my tears before I knocked.

Leah answered the door almost immediately, wearing just a tank top and shorts. I assumed she'd just gotten out of the shower as her short hair was damp. "Claire?" she said, obviously not expecting me. She peered at my tear-stained face. "What's the matter?"

"So," I began, "what the hell is up with imprinting?"

Dawning spread across Leah's face and she crossed her arms. "So the ball-less wonder finally told you?"

I smiled humorlessly. "Yeah, he told me." I gestured at the state I was in. "Clearly, I didn't take it well."

"Well, come on in, midget," Leah replied, stepping back to allow me entrance.

I immediately collapsed on her worn sofa, kicking off my shoes. "I really wish I'd known before now."

Leah sat in the armchair so that she could see me and said, "We were kind of forbidden from telling you. Alpha orders and all that." She scowled.

"Alpha orders?" I asked, momentarily distracted.

"Wow, Quil really sucks at explaining things, doesn't he?"

"Apparently so."

"Your uncle Sam is the Alpha wolf. He can order us to do shit, and we have to do it," Leah explained simply.

I smirked. "Sam's the Alpha? That's fitting." I knew as well as anyone else that my uncle could be a maniacal control-freak.

Leah returned my smirk and nodded. "And yeah, he ordered us not to say anything until Quil did. All bets are off now, though. So what's up?"

I launched into an explanation of recent events, starting at the party and ending with me stomping out of Quil's house. By the time I was finished, I was on the verge of tears again. I felt broken and hurt and betrayed.

Leah, who had rolled her eyes at Quil during various parts of the story, finally heaved a long-suffering sigh and leaned back in her chair. Propping her feet on the coffee table, she said, "Quil's always been a bit of a moron. Thought he'd grow out of it, but he never has. In any case, you reacted a lot like I expected you to."

"You know me better than Quil, then."

"Nah. Quil probably got himself all worked up because you were kissing him and he forgot who he was dealing with. Idiot," she muttered. "Always making shit harder for himself."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She raised her eyebrow at me. "Well, for one thing, he couldn't imprint like a normal person. He had to imprint on a frigging toddler."

I made a face. "I don't think normal people imprint. No offense," I added.

"None taken. I never imprinted. Used to hate the whole idea actually," she said. She was still smirking but there was a look in her eyes like she had seen more than her fair share of shit in life. In that moment I realized that Leah had a whole life of stories that I'd never known about.

"Used to?" I asked after a moment.

"I had to get used to it, eventually."

"Why did you hate it so much?" I wondered.

"You sure you want to know?" she asked. "It might upset you."

"Since when are you worried about upsetting people?" I replied.

She grinned. "True. I just don't want to mess up your vision of a perfect little family."

"I think being lied to for most of my life has already shot my 'perfect family' vision to hell."

"Okay, then. Just remember you asked for it. And if Sam pitches a fit for me telling you, I'm laying all the blame on you," Leah warned.

"I can take Sam pitching a fit," I assured her.

"Well," she said, "Sam and I used to date. A long time ago, before most of us had even started phasing. Sam was the first to -"

"Woah, woah, woah," I interrupted. "You dated _Sam_?"

"I found it less repulsive than that. But yes. We were actually planning on getting married."

I was stunned. How could I not have sensed that past connection between two people I'd grown up around?

"Like I was saying, Sam was the first to start phasing. He was also the first to imprint. Which he did on my cousin Emily when she came to visit me." She said this in a way that sounded like it still didn't please her but the hurt and bitterness had long since faded out.

I, on the other hand, was utterly appalled. "He imprinted on Emily while you two were together?!" I cried. "How could he? What an ass hole!"

Leah accepted my anger on her behalf graciously. "Yeah, while we were together. Dumped me almost right away and started dating Emily. Never looked back."

My mouth was opening and closing in an attempt to say something, but I was so completely disgusted by my uncle's behavior that I was having difficulty forming words. "No wonder you hated imprinting!_ I_ hate imprinting!" I finally managed to say.

"I didn't find out until later that it was imprinting, though. Sam didn't tell me until after I'd phased myself. Which was a really horrible experience, I might add," she said, looking with unfocused eyes across the room. "Nobody was telling me what the hell was wrong with me, I'd just been unceremoniously dumped for my cousin, and on top of that, once it was all finally explained to me, I was still in the dark because I was the only girl wolf. Still am," she added with a hint of pride that I suspected had taken a long time to develop.

"Your life sucked," I said bluntly.

Leah let out a laugh. "Yeah it did. And believe me, I let everybody know about it. Quil told you we can hear each other's thoughts when we're phased, right? Or did he neglect that bit of information as well?"

"No, that he managed to get around to telling me."

"Well, let's just say nobody liked being phased at the same time as me," Leah said, a gleeful glint in her eyes.

I smiled. "Gave 'em hell, Leah?"

"Absolutely," she confirmed with a nod.

The smile slid from my face as I remembered why she was telling me all this. "So Sam and Emily's love is faker than fake," I murmured. This disappointed me a great deal. I'd always looked towards my aunt and uncle's relationship as the ideal of what I wanted someday.

"Of course it isn't," Leah replied instantly. "They just had an unfair advantage in love is all."

"How can you say that? They're like robots, they didn't get to choose to be together. And after what you went through because of it -"

Leah raised her eyebrow and looked at me pointedly. "Seriously, Claire, don't lecture me about 'what I went through.' Believe me, I know."

I shut up immediately.

Leah sighed again and rubbed her eyes. "I've had a long time to be bitter, and a long time to get over it. I've seen my best friends imprint over the years, and I finally had to admit I was jealous."

"Jealous of what?" I demanded, feeling angry that she wasn't ripping into imprinting the way I wanted her to.

"Jealous of them being so happy. Jealous of them being so _sure_." She shook her head, and I got the feeling she hadn't talked about this very much. "I don't like imprinting. I never would want to. I'm perfectly content with going about finding love the old-fashioned way. But that doesn't mean I don't sometimes wish it could be handed to me on a silver platter."

"I can't believe that's love," I insisted. "I've always thought love was partly choosing who you love."

"You can't always control who you feel things for. Imprinting is just a really crazy, intense version of that. Fortunately, it usually works out for the best."

"Didn't work out for you," I muttered.

"Yeah, it did. I realize now I wouldn't have been happy with Sam forever. I've come to see it as something good," Leah murmured, her eyes unfocused again. "And I'm happy now, that's the important thing. I have a lot of time to find someone. Phasing slows down the aging process," Leah said with a grin.

"I kind of figured, although Quil never specifically said so. You all look like you're twenty."

"Like I said, he's a moron. Always has been."

I let out a soft laugh, then sighed heavily. "I'm still not okay with it," I said finally.

"That's something very personal that only you can decide, midget. I can't tell you what to do."

I faked shock and awe. "Leah's not telling me what to do? What is this world coming to?!"

Leah rolled her eyes. "Har de har har."

"No, but seriously, that's half the reason I came here." I made a point of looking intently at the floor.

"You wanted me to tell you what to do?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "It would make it a lot easier." I finally glanced up to meet Leah's eye. She looked at me as if she were waiting for me to continue. "I just don't know what to do," I said, suddenly feeling the telltale tightness in my throat and chest that foretold tears. "The last few weeks have just been a complete mess without finding my best friend can turn into a dog and is in love with me in a creepy, voodoo way." I sniffled and said, "I never realized how attractive he was until last night and then he had to go and ruin it."

"First of all, I don't mind you talking to me, but I don't want to hear about how attractive Quil is. It's as bad as if you were talking about Seth. Second of all, don't think you don't have a choice in this, Claire."

"I do have a choice?" I questioned.

"Of course you do. And you always will. I won't tell you what you should or shouldn't do on this one, but nobody forces you to be with your soul mate."

I grimaced. "Don't use that term."

"Well, obviously, if you choose to walk away, he's not really your soul mate after all, is he?" Leah said.

"Imprinting isn't foolproof, hm?" I mused.

"I don't believe anything is foolproof. And we all know Quil's a fool."

I felt relieved when she said this, but then another thought occurred to me. "I can walk away?" I clarified.

"Yes, you can."

"But can Quil?" I asked earnestly. The dude had scared the bajeezus out of me by springing a lifetime commitment on me after a couple kisses, but I couldn't write him off after a lifetime of being my best friend.

Leah shrugged, which I found very unreassuring. "I don't really know. Like I said, if it's not 'meant to be,' then there's nothing to it. And you can't make your decisions based on that. You have to do what's right for you." She paused, then added, "Quil is a softy, but he does have all of us. It wouldn't be like abandoning a puppy by the side of the road."

I thought it felt very much like that, but I didn't say so. We sat in silence for several minutes as I thought about everything she had said. Finally, I stood up. "I just...I still think it's not okay with me. I just want my friend."

Leah nodded. "You should tell him that then. Quil will always be whatever you need him to be."

I shuddered. "I hate that. I want him to be free. I want him to have a life. I mean, can't he choose that as well?"

"Hey, Claire?" Leah catcalled.

"What?"

"Shut up. He's okay with it. That's his choice. And he will be whatever you need. If that's just a friend, that's just a friend. But don't go worrying your little head about him. If he suddenly decides he's _not_ okay with it, then he'll do what he needs to do."

"Okay," I sighed, still not fully convinced. I hovered indecisively for a moment.

"Go talk to him. He'll feel better knowing you don't hate him," Leah prompted.

"But...what if it's too awkward to be friends now?" I asked.

"Then it's too awkward to be friends," Leah replied. I could tell she was tired of me talking in circles. She'd said her piece and had nothing to add.

"Right," I said, putting my shoes back on. "I'll just talk to him, explain how I feel without screaming, and see what happens from there." I crossed the room and paused at the door. "Thanks a lot, Leah. You have no idea."

She smiled genuinely. "Anytime, kid."

I hurried back in the direction of Quil's house. I needed to find out if things could ever be okay again. The more I thought about it, the more panicked I became at the thought of losing my best friend.

I ran up the porch steps to Quil's front door and knocked loudly. After a few moments of nothing I knocked again. Nothing. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and called his phone while I rang the doorbell. I could hear his phone ringing inside, but no one was answering.

"Come on, Quil," I muttered, starting to feel anxious. What if he never wanted to talk to me again? I rang the doorbell a couple more times as the call went to his voicemail. I physically hurt when I heard Quil's cheerful voice proclaiming that I'd missed him and that if I left my name and number he'd call me back. And "if it's Claire, which it probably is, you know I'm probably on my way to see you right now anyway." I flinched, hearing the familiar shout-out just to me.

I rang the doorbell again in desperation, and my heart leapt when it finally swung open. But I was puzzled to see Jacob Black standing there. "Jake," I began, "I need to talk to Quil, right away." I started to move to go inside, but Jake blocked me. I looked at him questioningly. "What's the deal? I need to talk to Quil."

"I don't think that's a good idea right now. Besides, he's not even here anymore. He just left," Jacob said, and his voice was oddly cold to me.

"Well, where'd he go?" I demanded, not in the mood for Jacob's shit on top of everything else.

"He phased and took off," Jacob replied, purposefully unhelpful.

"Jake, please. Can't you phase and tell him I need to talk to him?"

"I could, but he won't come." I was not liking a Jacob Black that was apparently mad at me. Of course, I shouldn't have been surprised. Quil was Jake's best friend, and I had just hurt Quil. Badly.

"Why wouldn't he come?" I whined, torn between anger and sadness.

"Just leave it alone for now, Claire. If he wants to talk to you, he'll come find you."

"Jake!" I cried. "I need to talk to him!"

"Unless you've decided to stop being a bitch, I don't think he wants to talk to you," Jake replied, finally saying what was clearly on his mind.

I stared at him. Jake had always been my friend, a good friend. "A bitch?! He practically proposed to me after one drunk kiss and one sober one!"

"He did not propose to you, so stop acting like a goddamn girl," Jake snapped.

"I _am _a girl!" I yelled, even though I wasn't sure this was really that important.

"Right," Jake said, reverting to being deliberately difficult.

"Seriously, what am I supposed to do when someone does that?"

"How about not freak the hell out and crush someone who's only tried his best to be there for you in every way he knows how?"

I winced. "I know I hurt him," I said quietly. "That's why I need to talk to him."

"I seriously don't think anything you can say right now will help. Unless you tell him you made a huge mistake," Jake said.

"I think I overreacted," I said, to which Jake snorted derisively. "But I don't think I made a mistake. Look, I need to explain this to _Quil_, not his moody friend."

"And look, I'm not going to go drag him back here so you can hurt him some more. When he wants to talk to you, he will."

I shook my head in defeat, realizing Jacob wasn't going to budge. "Will you at least tell him I came by?" I asked pleadingly.

Jake softened slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell him."

"Thanks," I said. "Um. I'll see you later, I guess," I said awkwardly.

"Sure, sure."

I nodded and headed off. And as I called my dad to come pick me up, all I knew is that I couldn't lose my best friend.


	10. Make Me

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Ten: Make Me  
Claire's POV

* * *

I didn't hear from Quil for four days. Actually, it was three days and twenty two and a half hours, but who's counting? Okay, I was totally counting. It was the worst 3.9375 days of my life. At least it was up to that point.

He called me on Thursday afternoon while I was on my way home from school. I ripped my phone out of my pocket when I felt it buzzing and I nearly died when I saw it was Quil. No, seriously. I stopped breathing. I stared blankly at my phone for two more buzzes before I came to and answered it.

"Quil?!" I said breathlessly.

"Hi." I stopped breathing again at the sound of his voice. This was going to be a difficult conversation. Fortunately, he cut it short by saying, "Jake said you wanted to talk to me, so I was wondering if we could meet up." He said it very deadpan, with no inflection at the end to indicate a question.

"Yeah!" I cried. "Yeah, that's great! Just let me know when and where!"

"How about I meet you at your house? I'll probably beat you there since you're walking." He was probably right.

"Sure! Okay!" My voice sounded absurdly excited in conjunction with his emotionless one, but I couldn't stop myself. I could finally explain and fix this and get Quil to get over me and make it like this never happened! Or something like that.

"All right. See you soon," he replied, and then hung up before I could say anything else.

Quil did _not _beat me home because I practically ran. I sat nervously on the couch, rehearsing what I was going to say in my mind. Suddenly, the front door opened. I leapt up, and in walked...Carly. I groaned and plopped back down on the couch.

"Are you not happy to see me?" Carly asked.

"You're fine. I was just hoping you were someone else," I grumbled.

"And by 'someone,' you mean 'Quil?'"

"Um...yes," I replied. I hadn't told Carly what happened, and I raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped. "It's just obvious you two are having a fight. He hasn't been over here in days." She turned on her heel and went into the kitchen, slamming her way to a glass of water.

I stared after her. "Are you in a bad mood?" I called.

"Not at all," she said, sounding very much like she was in a bad mood. Which doesn't happen very often.

I was tempted not to ask, because I didn't want to get involved in another drama while I was still resolving my own, but I couldn't just ignore her. She was my sister. "Yeah, you're in a bad mood," I told her as she came back into the living room with her water.

"Well, you would be too if you just found out your boyfriend of _five months_," she said, as if this were the longest time ever, "had been cheating on you with your friend for four of those months."

"What?!" I cried, leaping up again. "Greg cheated on you?!"

"His name is _Gary_, Claire. Honestly. I know you don't care, but you could at least pretend sometimes."

"I do care! I just never liked him anyway, so I didn't like to hear about him!"

"You've never liked any of my boyfriends!" she (rightly) told me.

"Because they're all jerks like Gary!" I replied. "I don't want to fight with you, Carly, I want to help you."

She softened towards me, but she still looked mad as hell. I was impressed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"So what did you do?" I asked.

"I dumped him, of course."

"Good. I'm sorry, Carly. I really am," I said.

She shrugged. "It's okay." There were tears shimmering in her eyes, but she forced herself to smile. That was Carly in a nutshell. "He wasn't worth my time."

"No shit."

"I'll be okay," she reassured me. "What's going on with you and Quil?"

Just as I was about to answer, someone knocked on the door. I launched myself towards the door. Carly headed towards the stairs. "Don't worry, you'll tell me later," she informed me before she disappeared.

I wrenched the door open and sure enough, it was Quil. Seeing him standing there immediately caused all my well-thought out and practiced explanations and reasonings to fly right out of my head. He had his hand stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and his white t-shirt was dirty and grass-stained. He was also barefoot.

When he saw me glance at his feet, he shrugged. "I ran here."

"You ran? How'd you get here so fast? And barefoot?" I asked stupidly.

"I can run fast," he said simply. When I still looked confused, he added, "As a wolf."

"Oh! Oh, right, gotcha," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "Duh."

"So, can I come in?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence.

He's _asking_ to come in? Maybe this was even worse than I thought. "Sure!" I stood back and shut the door behind him. He sat on the armchair and didn't settle in. He looked ready to bolt, or as if he didn't plan on staying long.

I returned to my seat on the couch and tried to remember all the great things I had planned on saying. I couldn't think of any of them.

"So...," he said after more uncomfortable silence. "Jake said you wanted to talk to me?" He was prompting me.

"Yeah. I um...well...." Why was this so hard? Talking to Quil was never hard! I fidgeted nervously and shifted position.

"Come on, Claire, you called me 47 times the last few days. You must have something to say, so talk."

I winced. Quil never spoke to me that way. Then again, he'd never been upset with me either. And by "upset," I mean "hurt beyond all recognition." I steeled myself for what I had to say. "Quil, I never meant to hurt you -" I began.

He snorted. "You threw a book at me."

"I mean _emotionally_," I snapped. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. This had to go right. "I talked to Leah after I left your house the other day. Although I'm sure you know that, since you guys can hear each other's thoughts and all," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't help.

"Actually, I didn't know that," he deadpanned.

"Oh. Why not?"

He shrugged. "Because she didn't want me to, apparently. Leah's the best at hiding her thoughts."

"Oh," I repeated. "Well, I talked to her after I left your house, and she explained a few things a bit more for me. About...about imprinting and all that." I forced myself to say the word. Had to address the elephant in the room.

Quil said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

"Um...anyway, first of all I want to apologize for freaking out so much. It wasn't necessary. I just – you're my best friend. And I think that's how we are supposed to be. Best friends."

"Why did you kiss me, then?" he demanded suddenly.

"Because I wanted to see what it felt like! Because it was different and new! I don't know!"

"And what did it feel like?" he asked.

Amazing, I thought. Stop it. Best friend. "Different and new," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "Different and new in a good way?" he pursued.

"Different and new in a different and new way! I was just experimenting, Quil. Isn't that allowed?"

"Not on me."

"Well, I didn't _know._"

"Claire -"

"Quil, listen. You're my best friend, and I care about you a lot. More than anything. I don't want to lose you. I know you imprinted, but Leah said that imprinting can be different. That we can stay best friends. If I wanted. And," I said hopefully, "if you were willing."

He looked at me with big brown eyes, all the fight leaving him, and I wanted to just hug him, he looked so sad. I'd never seen that look on happy, easy-going Quil's face. After a long moment, he said, "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"_Yes_," I emphasized. "You're my _best friend_."

Quil stared at me for several beats and I thought my heart was going to self-destruct, it hurt so bad. And then he smiled the weakest, lamest smile ever and said, "Okay. I'll...I can do that."

I exhaled sharply. "You can?" I asked. I needed to hear it twice to believe it.

"Yeah." He sounded like he was convincing himself as well as me. "I can. I'd rather be your friend than be nothing to you."

I burst into tears of relief, and then I launched myself off the couch, over the coffee table, and into him, throwing my arms tightly around his neck. "You could never be nothing to me!" I sobbed into his shirt.

He put his arms around me hesitantly at first, but after a moment, he hugged me tighter, burying his face into my hair.

"Quil," I said.

"Hm?" he rumbled.

"Um...," I said, leaning back and wiping my eyes. "Will you...you know, date other girls now?"

He grimaced. "Can we not talk about this right now? Please?"

"But you should! I want you to be happy, Quil, really."

"Please, Claire?"

I was tempted to push the issue, but I backed off. "Okay," I agreed. "Okay." I nestled back into him, and reveled in having my best friend back. Quil stayed for dinner, and I was hoping he'd stay for a movie, but he left, saying he had to go over to Embry's.

"You agreed to being 'just friends?' Are you stupid?" Embry demanded.

"What was I supposed to do? Cut myself out of her life completely?" Quil was sitting on Embry's couch next to Jake. Both Embry and Jake were staring at him, incredulous and pitying.

"That would be a lot easier on you, so yeah," Jake replied.

"That's the thing! It wouldn't be easier! It would be so much _worse_," Quil said.

Embry and Jake exchanged a glance.

"You guys haven't imprinted and you aren't with anybody, you don't understand. It gets physically painful to be away from her and to know when she's upset and to not go to her. I tried to stay away. I tried for four days and I almost went batshit," Quil said.

"Four days?" Embry said sarcastically. "Wow, that's a long time."

"Well...it was three days and twenty two hours. And a half. Twenty two and a half hours. And it _felt _like a long time," Quil insisted over the snorts of laughter coming from his two friends.

"Quil, in all seriousness, are you just supposed to go along pretending you don't feel anything for her more than friendship?" Jake asked.

"I did it before," Quil countered.

"What happens when she gets asked to winter formal in December?" Jake asked.

"Or when she goes swimming at the beach next summer and she's wearing a tiny swimsuit?" Embry added.

"Or when she gets a boyfriend? How are you supposed to just pretend you don't care?"

"Or that you don't want to jump her. Because you know you do."

"I'll – shit, guys, I don't know, I'll deal with it when it happens!" Quil cried.

"You will not. You'll lose it, dude. The only reason you handled it before was because you had getting together with her to look forward to. Now that you don't have that, you will go insane. Or die. Or go insane and then die," Embry rambled.

Quil opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. His shoulders sagged and he wilted. "You're right," he said quietly. "I can't do it. I was her brother when she was a kid, and that was fine. I was her best friend after that, and that was fine. But I can't be just her friend anymore. I can't."

"You fell in love with her at some point?" Jake asked.

"I guess so. I didn't really acknowledge it until now, but yeah."

"Could you...I'm not trying to be insensitive here, Quil, but could you ever get over it? Could you ever find someone else?" Embry asked tentatively.

Shaking his head, Quil said, "I honestly don't think so. I wish I could say yes, but I don't think so."

"I don't even believe that she doesn't feel anything more for you. I bet she doesn't even know it," Jake grumbled. "There's no way that girl isn't in love with you. Not from what I've seen. I mean, it's her choice, but I think she's making a mistake."

"Well," Embry said, "there's only one thing to do then."

"And what's that?" Quil asked glumly.

Embry shrugged nonchalantly. "Make her want you."

"What? What do you mean? She doesn't want me."

"Exactly. So what you have to do is make her. Make her jealous, make her uncomfortable, make her 'catch you' just after you've shifted back to being a human, if you get what I'm saying."

"Make her see him naked?" Jake supplied skeptically.

"Yes! Make her see you in a way that is completely _too_ friendly and force her to admit how she feels for you. Make her. Because otherwise you'll die and go insane. But not in that order," Embry said.

Jacob nodded. "I hate to say it, but I think he's right. Which doesn't happen often."

Embry slugged him, then turned to Quil. "Get out my house. Right now. I don't want to listen to you bemoaning your misfortune in love anymore. Get out of my house, and make her see what she's missing."


	11. Sex and Dating

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Eleven: Sex and Dating  
Claire's POV

* * *

A/N: Don't worry, things will get more fun with "the plan" in the next few chapters.

* * *

"Did you know," I began, sitting cross-legged on my bed across from my sister, "that Quil and the pack do this thing called 'imprinting?'"

Carly, who had relegated herself to wearing sweatpants and eating her feelings since her breakup the day before, blinked at me. "No," she replied. "What does that mean?" She took another chocolate out of the box that she had wheedled Dad into stopping at the store for on his way home from work.

"Here, I'll give you a hint. Sam imprinted on Aunt Emily."

"Ew," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I don't want to know about what they do when they -"

"_No!_" I cried, grimacing. "No. Not that. God."

"Well, what then?" she chirped, shoving the chocolate square into her mouth whole.

"Imprinting is how they meet their...soul mates," I finished, cringing. "At least, that's how it usually works out."

"Like love at first sight?" Carly asked eagerly, her eyes lighting up for the first time during the conversation.

"Um. Sort of? I guess. The, ah, wolf. He -"

"Or she," Carly added. "Leah's a wolf."

"But she hasn't imprinted," I snapped. "_Anyway_. The wolf sees the imprintee, or whatever, and they just know. Right? They know."

"So it _is_ like love at first sight," Carly squealed, clapping her hands.

"No, it's not. Because it's not perfect."

"How is that not perfect? Sam saw Emily and he fell in love with her right then and there? Oh, wow. And look at them now! They're so perfect for each other." Carly sighed dreamily. "I love this wolf stuff."

"That's nice," I retorted. "Would you let me finish? I'm trying to tell you something." I snapped my fingers in her face, because her brown eyes had slid out of focus as she no doubt imagined all the fabulously romantic things that could come from being involved with someone who could burst into a growling, snarling ball of fur at will. She blinked once and shook her head lightly before nodding at me to continue. "Like I was saying," I went on, "it's not perfect. It doesn't always work out right."

"Who else has imprinted?" she asked suddenly, not quite hearing what I had said. "Ooh, let me guess. Okay, you already said Sam and Emily. Jared and Kim, duh. Paul and Rachel. Gosh, this explains so much. I always wondered if there was something in the water over there, like love potion or something."

"Carly, I know you think this is awesome, but it's not. I'm trying to tell you about why I was fighting with Quil," I interrupted.

"OH MY GOD!" she screeched, causing me to jump. "Quil imprinted on someone else and you're jealous because he's not spending any time with you anymore! That's it isn't it?" she said all in one breath.

"Um. No."

Then she got a look in her eye, like something had occurred to her all of a sudden, and it was a look I most certainly did not like. "So...," she began cautiously, "if Quil hasn't imprinted on someone...is he still...erm...."

"Available?" I spat.

Carly blushed deep scarlet, but at least she had the cojones to nod.

"No, he's not," I hissed, and I was vindictively pleased to see her face fall slightly. "And if you would shut up for five minutes, I would explain everything to you."

During the entire story, Carly interrupted only once, and that was when I finally explained that Quil had imprinted on me. She completely erupted into a fit of squealing and crowing about how she had known for a while now that he had cared about me a little _too_ much.

"How did you know?" I demanded. Had everyone known more than me?

"Well, he's a _guy_, Claire."

"That's helpful."

"You think he let you walk up the stairs in front of him all the time just because he was being a nice guy? Come on. He was totally using it as an excuse to check out your butt."

I felt my jaw drop. I couldn't believe my sweet, innocent baby sister was saying this.

"And what thirty year old guy would hang around a teenager unless he _really cared about you._ I mean, I know he's your best friend and blah blah blah, but the man is one hot chunk of man meat, Claire. You think he couldn't have any woman he wanted? But he's choosing to hang out with you? Come _on_."

"Please stop talking like this. You're scaring me." And she was. Mostly because what she was saying made way too much sense.

"And," she giggled, "do you remember in July when he took you, me, and Devon to the Oregon Coast for Fourth of July weekend? And I made you wear that little red polka-dot bikini? Didn't you notice how he refused to come out of water that was a least waist-high for a good half hour after you lost your cover up? He _shuffled_ into the ocean."

"Now you're just full of shit," I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

"No, no, I'm not." She smiled. "Did you really think any guy in his right mind would come to see _The Sound of Music_ six times last year if he didn't love the girl who played Louisa? Or carry you upstairs to bed countless times after you've fallen asleep in his arms? Or follow you on a date to the movies and scare away the one guy you've ever had your eye on? Or try to make you breakfast on your birthday only to wake you up via smoke alarm? Or tickle you until you laugh so hard you cry, and he can do that because he knows exactly where you're ticklish? Or who knows exactly what food to bring you when you've had a bad day as opposed to a _really_ bad day? Or -"

"I get it!" I interrupted. She had to stop. She had to. I shifted on the bed uncomfortably.

"It's actually almost _too_ sweet, now that I'm thinking about it," she admitted. "But it's exactly what everyone wants." She sighed. "You're so lucky."

Then I burst her bubble by explaining everything else that had happened. When I finished, she just stared at me blankly, saying nothing for several minutes.

"You told him no," she finally said.

"I guess you could put it that way," I said, unsure of how she was reacting.

"You've done a lot of stupid things, Claire, but this has to be the. Dumbest. Thing. Ever." Her eyes suddenly narrowed to slits, and I was afraid she was going to hit me. I was honestly concerned.

I was dumbstruck for a moment. "What am I supposed to do if it doesn't feel right?" I asked exasperatedly.

"How can it not feel right?!" she demanded. "He's amazing! He loves _you_! He _loves_ you!"

"He said we could just be friends -"

"Because he would do _anything_ for you! I can't believe you did that. What is that _matter _with you?"

I gaped stupidly at her and said nothing.

"You said imprinting has been happening as long as there have been wolves, which has been, like, a really long time. Of all the imprinting that has happened over the years, and after you've seen firsthand how much those couples love each other and how happy they are, you're the first one to be so damn stubborn that you had to mess it up," she went on furiously.

"Can't you support me?!" I managed to say. "It's not what I want, can't you just support me in that decision?"

"Even if it's the worst decision? Ever?" she questioned.

"It might have been the worst decision ever if you were the one in my position, but you're not. I'm me, and I'm different than you. What you would want isn't necessarily what I want."

"_Obviously_," she emphasized, and then let up. "I know you're not me. I just honestly think you're wrong. Really, _really_ wrong."

"Opinion noted," I grumbled. "Try not to go off on me next time?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

"You're forgiven."

"So did Mom and Dad know about this?" she asked after a moment.

My jaw dropped again. I hadn't thought of that. "Oh my shit! They did! They totally knew, and they never told me either!"

"Wow," Carly said. "That doesn't seem right."

"Bad parenting award!" I cried. "Nobody tells me anything!"

Great. Two more people I had to be pissed at.

* * *

I made an effort to give my parents hell all weekend long, but they ignored me for the most part. I refused to give in and talk to them about it, though.

Quil was with Embry and Jake all weekend, so I didn't see him. It made me nervous, because I wondered if he had changed his mind about being friends, but he reassured me when I called him for the sixth time that he really was just busy "making plans" with the other two. When I asked what their plans were for, he stuttered for a minute before coming up with an excuse to hang up the phone. Whatever. Maybe I didn't want to know what they were up to.

On Monday, a much-needed _nice_ surprise was waiting for me. At school, of all places. As I walked into my last period acting class, I saw a sign that had been posted announcing that auditions for the winter play would take place in mid-October. The chosen production was _Lend Me a Tenor_. I grinned and immediately signed up for an audition time. I needed something to keep me busy. I jotted down a note to look up everything I could on the play, as I had heard of it but was not overly familiar with it. I wanted to be prepared. Just as I closed up my notebook, Tony came up to me.

After the movie theater fiasco, he'd been keeping his distance. I hadn't really had time to fret over it too much, what with all the drama that had been going on with Quil the last few weeks. And I couldn't really blame the dude.

"Hey," he said nervously, giving me a small smile.

"Hey," I replied.

"Listen, I know I didn't handle everything very well after our date. I've just been really distracted lately, since my dad lost his job and all that. And to be honest, Quil is kind of scary," Tony said quickly.

"Oh, it's okay," I rushed to reassure him.

"No, it's not. It was a jerk thing to do, and all I can do is kick myself for ruining the one chance I had with you." A look of surprise came on his face and he clamped his mouth shut. I got the feeling he hadn't actually meant to say that last part out loud.

I grinned. "Well...what if it wasn't your only chance?"

He immediately perked up. "Then I would be really happy. I'd really like to have a do-over."

"Sure," I replied. I felt severe butterflies when his face broke into the grin that I had always liked so well. "And you won't have to worry about Quil. I think we've figured that out."

The relief on his face was obvious, but he didn't comment further on Quil. "Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night? As a second first date?" he asked.

I felt heat rising to my face and nodded eagerly. "That sounds awesome."

"Great! Six-thirty okay?"

"Yup, that's fine." I pointed at the audition poster. "You're gonna audition, right?"

"Most definitely," he replied.

I grinned again. "Perfect."

* * *

"You're going to break Quil's heart," Carly told me.

"Last time I went on a date with Tony, you were excited," I complained.

"That was before."

"Yeah, well, Quil and I are friends. _Friends_. Eff. Are. Eye. En. Dee. Ess."

"You're 'frinds?'"

"You know what I meant," I said, glaring.

She smiled apologetically.

"Quil knows this is going to happen. He knows I'm going to date other guys," I continued.

"But so soon?" Carly asked, looking very concerned.

I grunted, annoyed. "It's not like we were ever together. There is not a post-breakup period I have to honor or something."

"I know...," she said, "but it's Quil."

"What about me?" Quil asked as he popped his head inside my bedroom door.

I squawked. "When did you get here?!"

He faltered. "Just now. Nice to see you too, Claire."

"Carly, get out. You're not being helpful anyway."

"I'm sorry, but you know how I feel," she told me as she stood up. I thought she was being very self-righteous. And then as she passed Quil at the door, she glanced up at him through her eyelashes and smiled before traipsing out. Even I could tell what _that_ smile was all about. I gaped at the spot she had been in moments before.

Quil hovered in the doorway for a moment staring in the direction my sister had gone. Finally, he stepped into the room. I stood up and crossed to shut the door firmly behind him.

"What's gotten into her?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, a little too quickly. I was just starting to feel...not jealous, because that wasn't something you feel about friends...I guess I was simply annoyed, when he shrugged and clearly dismissed my sister from his mind.

Quil crossed from the door to my bed in a single stride and collapsed on it. I could the springs of the mattress complaining loudly at his weight, and his feet dangled off the end of the bed. "So, how was your day?" he asked, putting his hands behind his head.

I ignored his question. "How much did you hear?"

"What?"

"You know what. I'm not stupid, I know you have doggy hearing. So how much did you hear?" I demanded.

Quil stared determinedly at the ceiling. "I heard everything from 'frinds' on," he said, and he couldn't help but smirk at my spelling failure. "It's okay if you have a date. I won't follow you this time."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "That's it?"

He shrugged. "I guess so."

"Really? You're sure you're okay with it?"

His eyes flitted over to me. "Yeah. It's fine," he insisted.

"It's with Tony," I pressed.

"That's cool," he said nonchalantly.

"That's _cool_?" I repeated.

"Mmhm."

"Who _are_ you?!" I cried.

Sitting up, he looked at me half-quizzically, half-amused. "My name is Quil Ateara, and we are just friends. You're allowed to go on dates."

I stared at him in disbelief. He really didn't care. Why did that piss me off? "Well, whatever, then," I muttered after a moment.

Quil laughed at me, just like always, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Opening his arms to me, he said, "Come over here. I haven't hugged you yet, and you seem like you're in a bad mood."

I crossed over to him hesitantly. When he was sitting down, he was at eye-level, and I searched his eyes for any hint that he cared after all, but I couldn't find a thing. I finally hugged him, standing between his legs and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Am I allowed to ask how your day went now?" he asked with a chuckle in his voice, releasing me from the hug and moving his hands to my hips.

I rested my hands on his shoulders and said, "It was fine. Auditions for the winter play are in a couple weeks."

"Nice! What play?" he inquired, as if he knew any plays.

I finally smiled. "_Lend Me a Tenor_. Like you've ever heard of it," I teased.

He laughed again, and it was all of a sudden that I realized how much I'd missed this. He fell backwards onto the bed, and pulled me down with him, causing me to fall on top of him. "Whatever the damn play's about, I'm sure you'll be great," he grinned.

Well, this was a compromising position. _Stop thinking about how hard his chest is beneath your hands, you hussy. That's just weird, _I mentally scolded myself. "Well, duh," I replied and I was pleased that I managed to sound fine.

"I've always admired your modesty, Claire. So humble."

"Screw you, Ateara," I shot back. Oops. Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words, considering how we were lying. But this was happy fighting. This was what we did. And besides the fact that I was preoccupied with the fact that I was lying on top of him on my bed, this was completely back to normal. Right? Goddamnit, if he was the one who imprinted, and he could be totally cool, I could be, too. Was I going to be second-guessing everything we had always done now?

I pushed myself up and off of him, moving to sit up at the head of my bed. "What're your plans tomorrow night?" I asked, changing the subject. And if I happened to confirm that he wouldn't interfere with my date again in the process of changing the subject, then that was just an added bonus.

"Jake was having some people over from work. I thought I'd go," he answered.

"Oh."

He glanced up at me, half-smiling. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. That's fine. Who all is going?" I asked.

"Well, everybody from work. Which is really only like six people, but whatever. Jake, Embry, Monica, Collin -"

"Monica?" I interrupted. "That skeeze bag from the party?"

"Aw, come on. She's not that bad."

"That's why you were hiding from her, right?" I said, quirking a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"I was hiding because I thought – well, I thought I was waiting for you," he said defensively. "But since I'm not...."

"She doesn't really seem like your type is all," I snapped.

"I didn't say I was going to date her, Claire."

"So you're not going to date her?"

"I didn't say that either." He was looking amused again. The bastard. "I thought you wanted me to date other women?"

"I do. But seriously. Monica?"

"It's the red hair," he joked.

"_Monica_?" I repeated.

"Tony?" he returned.

"That's not even the same. Tony's nice, and...well, he's really nice. Monica's just got 'free STD' written all over her, and as your _friend_," I emphasized, "I think you can do better."

"Well, as my friend, I respect your opinion. But I'm just kidding. I'd never date Monica."

I felt inexplicable relief. "Good. Because if you got syphilis, I'd socially shun you," I told him matter-of-factly.

There was that laugh again. "I better be careful then," he said.

And that forced me to think about him having sex. With women. Well, shit.


	12. Running

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Twelve: Running  
Claire's POV

* * *

My second "first date" went really well. It was surprisingly normal. And uneventful in a good way. Even though Quil had said he had other plans, I still half-expected him to interfere somehow, even if he just texted me every five minutes. But he didn't do a thing. He casually asked me the next day how my date had gone, and that was it. Like it didn't even matter to him.

Another date with Tony followed, and afterwards he finally kissed me. It was sweet and awkward, and the opposite of kissing Quil. I mentally scolded myself for drawing that comparison. Tony didn't deserve that. After our third date, we actually went into a full on make out session, and it was good to feel so wanted, even if I kept second-guessing it.

The only indication Quil gave that he even had a clue that I was dating Tony was when he came over the Saturday morning following the third date. He came bounding into my room to wake me up and was leaning over me and tickling me to death when he suddenly froze. He leaned closer, causing me to freeze as well. He sniffed a couple times before straightening up and looking at me with furrowed brows.

"What?" I muttered, surprised at the sudden change in his demeanor. It was too early in the morning to decipher facial expressions.

"You smell like Tony," he replied.

"Well, I did go out with him last night."

"Right." Silence.

Add another tally mark under awkward conversations.

But other than that, he completely ignored it. Or simply didn't care. Maybe imprinting wasn't as strong as everyone seemed to think it was.

I was totally, completely cool with nonchalant Quil. It was definitely what I wanted. Definitely. Yep.

Then Carly made the comment that maybe Quil was as happy as I was to break the imprint.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Well, maybe he was only interested in you because he felt like he had to be," she said calmly as she brushed her hair. We were in the bathroom getting ready for school.

"And now he's happy because he's off the hook?" I asked, feeling a dark little rain cloud float into my stomach and not even knowing why.

Carly shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. It's just something to think about. You can't not want him and then get all butt hurt at the thought of him not wanting you."

"I'm not butt hurt!" I insisted, accidentally smudging my eyeliner.

"Okay," she said. "It just seems that way."

"Well, whatever. I'm not." I fixed my eyeliner as a familiar quiet fell between my sister and I.

Carly finished getting ready before I did, as usual. She perched on the counter to wait for me. She was back to walking with me to and from school since she was single. "What do you want for your birthday?" she asked.

"My birthday is in two days and you haven't gotten me anything? I'm hurt."

"You haven't given me any ideas on what to get you, so it was kind of hard," Carly said primly.

"I don't want anything. Seriously," I said to her skeptical look. "I can't think of anything that I want."

"You aren't very helpful."

"Sorry," I said.

"Can I buy you clothes?" she asked hopefully.

"No," I replied flatly.

"Well, what do you want? Because I have to buy you _something_. It's your eighteenth birthday! It's an important one!"

I sighed heavily. "I don't care what you get me, Carly. You know me well enough to know what I like."

She huffed. "Fine. Auditions are today, right?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yep. After school."

"You'll do great," she said warmly before glancing at the clock on her cell phone. "Are you almost ready? We're going to be late for school."

"And that would be a tragedy," I quipped.

"You know, if you'd accept rides to school, you could take longer getting ready without having to worry about being late," she reasoned.

"When you get a driver's license, feel free to drive to school. And we won't be late, stop it."

We were late.

* * *

I felt the auditions went really well, and our drama teacher promised to have the cast list posted by October 13th – my birthday. I was hoping I'd get a good birthday surprise by being cast in the role of Maggie, the female lead.

The next two days dragged, and even though Tony, Carly, and Quil all assured me that I should stop worrying, I couldn't help it. The wait after an audition is killer. It didn't help that Quil wasn't around as much. He was always busy with Embry and Jake.

* * *

I awoke on the morning of my eighteenth birthday to Quil singing a loud, off key version of "Happy Birthday." I threw my stuffed dog Otis at him to get him to shut up, but he just sang louder. This was a yearly occurrence.

"Happy birthday, Miss Grown-up," he said after he'd finished singing and plopped down on the bed next to me.

"Yeah, I'm gonna run right out and buy porn and cigarettes," I grunted, burying my face into my pillow.

"Aw, come on, Claire. You have to be excited to be eighteen," he said, poking my side playfully.

I peeked at him and let a smile slip through. "Yeah, yeah, okay. I'm pretty excited."

"Good, because I'm excited and it's never as much fun when you're a downer."

"I'm never a downer."

"Right. I was thinking of someone else."

I smacked his upper arm and he acted wounded, although I think it hurt me more than him. "You can always leave," I snapped.

"Absolutely not!" he cried and gathered me into his arms. "I've been with you on every birthday since your third one. I can't ruin that streak now."

I nuzzled my nose into his neck to warm it up, temporarily forgetting the haze of awkwardness that had recently fallen over our friendship. "I should hope not," I murmured.

"Eighteen," he breathed. "I can't _believe_ you're eighteen." He laughed quietly. "You old fart."

"You're thirty-three. You lose."

"My aging meter got busted a while back. _You_ lose."

He rolled onto his back and I moved my head from my pillow to his chest, where I could hear his heart beating. "So when I'm, like, ninety, you'll still look like you're twenty-five?" I asked.

"Don't worry, I'll still hang out with you at the retirement center. We can play bingo," he joked.

"I'm serious," I pressed. I hadn't given his severely slowed aging much thought until now.

"Only if I never stop phasing," he said.

I frowned. "Don't you like being a wolf?"

"Sure I do. But eventually I'll retire. Sam's about to already," Quil told me.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Emily's starting to look noticeably older than him. He wants to grow old with her."

I smiled. "That's nice."

Quil said nothing else and I was just starting to doze off again when he shook me gently. "You gotta get up for school. It's a big day."

I suddenly remembered the cast list and shot upright.

"Don't make any plans tonight," Quil warned as I leapt out of bed. For once, I made it to school early.

* * *

Carly came into the acting classroom with me to see the list before class started. I saw Tony's name at the top of the list, as he'd been cast as Max, the lead. I went down one more name and saw, "Maggie – Claire Sparrow." I shrieked and started hopping up and down. Carly clapped excitedly and hugged me, and when Tony walked in a few moments later, I launched myself at him. He stumbled backwards as I threw my arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his mouth.

"I take it you got Maggie?" he asked with a laugh.

"Yes, and guess who you are?" I bubbled.

"I have no idea," he said.

"You're Max!"

A grin broke across his face and in his own subdued way I knew he was as excited as I was. "That's awesome. And hey, Birthday Girl!" he said. "You busy tonight?"

"Um," I said, shuffling my feet, "yeah. I think Quil – and my family," I added with a meaningful look at Carly, "have plans for me."

"Oh! Yeah, we have plans, for sure," Carly said helpfully.

"Okay, no problem." He grinned again. "I'll take you out later for your birthday. But I have something for you now." He handed me a little wrapped box. I opened it with glee, because I loved presents even if I pretended I didn't. Inside was a necklace. The pendant was a circle with little crystals all around it. It was beautiful, but it wasn't really...me.

I forced myself to be excited about it. "Sparkly!" I said, rather lamely.

"Ooh, it's beautiful!" Carly said with starry eyes. She was like a raccoon with shiny things.

"Thank you, Tony. It's sweet," I said and kissed his cheek. He helped me put the necklace on and walked me to my first class, and I couldn't help but feel like the necklace was a weight around my neck.

* * *

I was surprised to find Quil waiting for me in front of the school when I got out. He was leaning against the flag pole with his hands in his pockets, and in spite of the chilly October wind, he was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

As the girls from my school passed him on their way to the parking lot, they all stared. And then whispered to each other and giggled. What the hell? Okay. So he was good-looking. But gawking is unnecessary.

When he saw me, his face lit up and I freed my hand from Tony's, who was walking with me, to jog up to Quil. "Whatcha doin'?" I asked.

"I have a surprise for you," he said with an impish grin.

Tony then caught up to me. "Hey, Quil," he said tentatively.

"Hey, Tony. You mind if I steal Claire? Birthday surprise," he explained.

Tony looked to me for prompting, but I just shrugged. To be honest, I wanted to see what Quil had up his sleeve. He hadn't picked me up from school since I was thirteen and told him it was embarrassing.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'll see you tomorrow, Claire. Happy birthday," Tony said and he pulled me forward to kiss me. I turned my face at the last second so that he kissed my cheek instead of my lips. Tony blinked and I felt bad, because I knew I'd hurt his feelings and I didn't really know what had caused me to do it in the first place, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he nodded to Quil again and left.

I watched Tony walk away until Quil cleared his throat. "Are you sure he's okay?" he asked.

"What? Oh, yeah. He'll...be okay. You know, let's just go," I said, shaking my head to clear it.

The gleeful look returned to Quil's face and he put his arm around me to steer me to his truck. I started to get in on the passenger side, but Quil stopped me. He took my bag from me and tossed it in before shutting the door again. "We aren't driving," he said mysteriously.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he lead me towards the woods that surrounded my school and the whole town.

"Nowhere in particular, actually," he admitted.

I snorted. "That makes no sense."

He looked at me and his eyes were dancing. "You'll see."

We entered the woods and we'd walked for a while before I spoke again. "Are we there yet?" I whined.

Quil laughed. "I guess this will do. Stay here," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and sitting me down on a log.

I crossed my arms. "What's going on?" I demanded.

"Just stay here, Claire," was all he said before he turned and ran off.

"What the hell!" I cried. "Quil, you can't just abandon me in the woods!" I knew Quil would never abandon me in the woods. But whatever. I huffed indignantly and crossed my arms as I waited.

A few moments later, I thought I heard him coming back, so I stood up to see what this was all about. I was completely stunned when he came into view, because, yes, it was Quil, but he was in his wolf form. I dropped back down onto the log with surprise.

I had only seen him this way once before, and I'd fainted then. It was still amazing and shocking and terrifying and wonderful all at once. Even as a wolf, that light that was always in his eyes was still present, and of all things, that's what kept me from fainting again. After a moment of staring at him, and Quil staring back patiently, I lifted my hand towards him.

"Come here," I said.

Quil obeyed immediately, trotting over to me and wagging his tail.

_Wagging his tail. Of course I'm the one who has a best friend with a tail, _I thought disjointedly as Quil came up to me and nudged my hand with his massive head.

I took the hint and explored his wolf face with my hands. I ran my fingers along his snout, up between his eyes, over his ears. His fur was soft and warm, just like human-Quil's skin. The longer I touched him, the more real it seemed, and a slow smile came to my face as I looked into his eyes. And then I laughed, because that was all I could think to do, and I put my arms around his neck in a hug. I buried my face in his fur and breathed deeply, amazed that he could still smell the same as he did when he was human. Like pine needles and rain.

I laughed again as Quil sat down on his haunches and licked my cheek once. I released him from the hug and planted my hands on either side of his face. "You're amazing, you know that?" I asked him.

He yipped in what could only be agreement, and I felt lighter than air. Quil looked into my eyes pointedly, then shifted his gaze to his back. I was pretty sure I understood.

"You want me to get on your back?" I asked to make sure.

He nodded his head and wagged his tail again.

I did exactly that and was surprised at how far off the ground I was when he stood. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck. "This is like extreme piggy-backing," I muttered into his ear. "Don't go too fast, okay?"

That was all it took for Quil to take off through the woods, leaping easily over any obstacle and dodging between trees so fast that I almost couldn't see them. I felt a cold wind blowing my hair back as we went and I could see the trees blurring together on either side of me, but I wasn't afraid. Because his balance was so perfect that I felt barely jostled as he ran. And because I knew Quil would never let anything bad happen.

"Oh, come on," I yelled over the sound of the wind. "You can go faster than this."

Quil let forth a joyful bark and sped up. I couldn't believe how fast we were going. I could understand instantly why he liked being a wolf. This – this was happiness, this was freedom, this was _life_.

I tightened my arms around him again, but not because I was afraid. "You really are amazing," I muttered into his fur, so quietly that I assumed there was no way he could hear it, but his speed suddenly increased even more all the same.


	13. Presents and Surprises

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Thirteen: Presents and Surprises  
Claire's POV

* * *

A/N: I hope this lives up to all your expectations. You guys almost gave me a complex over this. But I love you all for it. As usual, ignore typos. It's 3 in the morning, I'll fix them later.

* * *

Quil ran all the way to the edge of the woods by the school parking lot and crouched down so I could spastically hop off his back.

"You go change back," I told him. "I'll wait by the truck."

I meandered to Quil's truck and climbed in the passenger seat to wait. Pulling out my cell phone, I saw that I had two missed calls – one from Carly, and one from Tony. I sighed. Tony was probably hurt that I'd ditched him to spend my birthday with Quil. I probably shouldn't have. I mean, girls spend their birthdays with their boyfriends, right? But I couldn't lie and say I regretted it. Quil's surprise had been wonderful. It was what I needed if I was ever going to get used to the whole wolf thing.

I called Carly to let her know where I was and that I'd be home soon. She almost scolded me for blowing off Tony, but she thought better of it. Which was good. Even if I agreed with her, I still would've bitten her head off.

Shutting my phone, I wondered where Quil was. He was taking an awfully long time to just switch back to being good old human-Quil. I waited a few more minutes, and when he still didn't show up, I started to worry that something was wrong. I figured that was stupid. He was practically indestructible, right? But I kept right on worrying until I finally got out of the truck to check it out.

Reaching the edge of the trees, I called, "Quil?" When I got no reply, I moved further into the woods. "Quil, where are you? Are you okay?"

That's when I suddenly heard his voice nearby as if he'd appeared out of nowhere and moved towards it. He was talking to someone. I overheard him say, "Dude, I'm not doing it. I thought you were kidding. I need to go, she's coming. Get out of here." This was all followed by, "Oh, shit" when I came upon him talking to another wolf and standing in the middle of the forest completely naked.

I stopped midstep, my foot hovering the air in some kind of weird pose for a second before I remembered to put it down. My eyes immediately did a full sweep of his body before they consulted my brain. Dammit.

Quil scrambled to cover himself up, but really, it was too late, and we both knew it.

"Embry, I hate you," he muttered under his breath to the other wolf, who was literally rolling in the dirt, he was so amused. "I'm going to castrate you, you son of a bitch. You did that on purpose." This was followed by a string of such profane names for Embry that I was actually impressed by Quil's creativity.

With great mental effort, I moved my eyes from poor, embarrassed Quil to Embry. "Hello, Embry," I said politely, for lack of a better response to the situation. Even if I was looking at the grey wolf who was still in the middle some sort of wolfish giggle fit, I was picturing Quil naked in my head. This was distressing.

Quil finally found his pants, and I really did try to not sneak one last peek before he pulled them on, but I just didn't have the willpower, apparently. Embry caught me in the act and he had to shift back to human form just to laugh at me better. Embry seemed to be lacking the qualms Quil had about being naked, but I didn't have such a hard time not looking, either. I found it quite easy to glare right at his face.

"Oh, man, that was so worth it," Embry cackled.

"You realize you're naked in the dirt, right?" I said, my face burning red, going on the offensive rather than letting him just sit there and laugh at me.

"Nothing new," he replied, wiping a tear from his eye as he continued laughing.

"You're disgusting."

"I love you, too, Claire," he said, smirking. "Don't worry, I won't tell Quil that you were totally staring at his junk. Oops!" He feigned innocence, as if he'd forgot Quil was standing right there. "My bad!"

If it were possible, I blushed even more. "I was not staring at Quil's – I hate you, Embry. You're a birthday-ruiner."

"Whatever," he giggled. "That was your birthday present from me to you. You know you liked it. I bet it's your favorite present of the day."

"Shut up!" I snapped childishly.

Quil finally reinserted himself in the conversation, after fully clothing himself. And he looked really pissed. "Embry, I'll deal with you later. Let's go, Claire."

Embry seemed to sober a bit when he realized Quil was legitimately angry. "Man, it's not a big deal."

"Yeah, whatever," Quil said, grabbing me by the hand and towing me away. I was wondering when my face would stop being red and go back to normal.

"Quiiiil," Embry whined from behind us. "Don't be mad!"

"Later," Quil grunted back at him.

We left the woods once more and got into the truck without speaking. Quil drove, shifting gears jerkily and accelerating too fast.

I finally found my voice again. "So...why exactly did Embry want me to see you naked?"

Quil flinched visibly at the word "naked." He cleared his throat. "Because he's a sick bastard, most likely."

"Ookaaay." I was still a bit confused, but Embry was always a little odd. He probably just thought it was funny to embarrass Quil. And me. _Stop thinking about him naked. It's weird. Especially when he's sitting right next to you and he's breathing hard because he's pissed off. Shit, Claire, stop it._

"I'm sorry about all that, Claire" he said.

"Not your fault," I reassured him.

"I'm just sorry you were put into an uncomfortable situation," he went on.

"Quil, you're over thinking it. I saw you naked. It's not a big deal. Really." It was totally a big deal. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

He finally relaxed a little bit. "Okay. I'm still going to kill Embry, but okay."

"Nah, you don't have to kill him. Just hurt him a little bit."

Quil laughed as we pulled up to my house. "Deal." Getting out of the truck, he said, "I have a real present for you inside."

"Seriously? You already gave me an amazing present," I said, then felt it necessary to clarify. "I mean the running thing," I said, blushing again.

"That doesn't count as a present!" Quil cried. "That was just a special surprise."

_I got two "special surprises." Shit. _"What did ya get me?" I asked, poking his side on the way through the front door.

"You'll see," he replied with a grin. He bounded into the kitchen and retrieved a poorly wrapped gift. "Let's go upstairs to open it."

"You know," I told him once we'd reached my room and he'd handed the present over, "gift bags are a lot easier." We sat down facing each other on my bed.

"Are you insulting my wrapping?" he asked, slightly hurt.

"Of course not," I lied. I turned my attention to ripping open the gift. It was a digital picture frame, one of those that holds a bunch of pictures and will go through them like a slideshow.

"Cool!" I said.

"Wait, it gets better," he said, clearly excited. "I already filled it with pictures." He took it from me and turned it on.

A picture of Quil and I when I was around three filled the screen. We were on the beach. I was perched on his shoulders, my arms firmly wrapped around his forehead, matching smiles on our faces. Not smile-for-the-camera fake smiles, either. But real ones.

I smiled back at the image. Then it changed. The new picture was again of Quil and I. I was still a toddler, and this time we were holding up pictures we'd drawn. I noticed that his drawing was just as bad as my three year old scribbly one. It was endearing.

The picture changed again, to my fourth birthday. To Halloween, where I was dressed as Snow White and Quil was helping me go through my candy loot. To Christmas. To my first day of school. It kept going for several minutes, going through hundreds of moments that Quil and I had shared over the years, right up to a picture my mother had taken not three weeks ago, of Quil and I slumped on the couch, grinning cheekily at the camera. Then it started over.

I finally looked away from the screen, realizing there were tears in my eyes.

"Why are you crying?" Quil asked, concerned.

"Because that was the greatest present I think I've ever gotten. How much time did that take you to find all those pictures?"

A smile broke over his face. "A while. But it was totally worth it. I'm glad you like it."

I leaned over and hugged him tightly. "Of course I like it. How could I not?"

He set the picture frame aside and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. "Good," he murmured.

Pulling back slightly, I pressed our foreheads together. "You're the best friend ever. I think this is officially my best birthday yet."

"I'm happy I could be a part of it, then," he said quietly.

"Part of it?" I laughed. "You were _all_ of it!" So close to him, feeling my heart swell with affection for the man who had filled my life with so much joy, I thought about how easy it would be to tilt my head _just so_ and kiss him. Then I remembered that I couldn't, he was my best friend, I had a boyfriend, and the only reason I was even thinking of it was probably because I'd seen him naked not too long ago. So instead, I said, "Well, all of it except getting the part I wanted."

"You got Maggie?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Mmhm!" I replied.

"That's awesome!" he cried, pulling me back into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it."

I relished his praise more than I normally did, holding him in a hug for longer than usual. But he didn't seem to mind.

Quil stayed for dinner. My mother had courteously made a vegetarian dinner for me on my birthday, and Carly had made an absolutely beautiful cake that would have looked like crap if I'd made it. He left around eleven, giving me another hug before he left.

I went to bed extremely happy, but laid awake for quite a while. And some time around one in the morning, I heard someone throwing rocks at my window.

Assuming it was Quil for some reason, I leapt out of bed and pulled the window open to lean out and see. It was Tony, grinning up at me.

"Hey, birthday girl," he called quietly. "Come down for a minute."

I nodded and then snuck downstairs and outside. He met me on the front porch. "You know, it's technically not my birthday anymore," I told him.

"I know, but I didn't get to do this on your birthday," he said before pulling me into a deep kiss.

Flattered that he'd snuck out of his house just to give me a birthday kiss, I slid my arms around his neck and kissed him back. We were just getting into it when I imagined kissing someone much taller, bigger, and warmer. I froze, but Tony coaxed me back into the kiss. Then I did it again, imagining Quil's biceps and hot skin under my fingers instead of Tony's arms. I pulled away, and I thought I would be able to play it off, until I heard a wolf howl close by.

"Tony, I um...I need to get back inside. We have school tomorrow," I muttered awkwardly.

"Claire -"

"It was really sweet of you to come see me," I interrupted, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Just tired. I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?"

"Well, okay," he said, sounding defeated. As he turned to leave, I grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Thanks, Tony. It was really sweet." I gave him my most reassuring smile and he seemed to perk up a little before leaving.

I trudged back to my room feeling guilty and confused. Burying my head in my pillow, I tried to organize my thoughts. "The only reason I imagined Quil was because I saw him starkers," I told my stuffed dog Otis. Otis's glassy black eyes seemed to accuse me. "I mean," I went on, trying to convince Otis, "how can I not think about him when I saw him completely naked? He's an attractive guy, I can admit that. I'll get over it." Otis stared back at me, clearly not believing my arguments. I dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. "Fine. Be that way."

I fell asleep wondering why there was such a thin line between friendship and more, and why it was so difficult to see.


	14. Costume Shopping

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Fourteen: Costume Shopping  
Claire's POV

* * *

A/N: The cheeeeeeese! OMG THE CHEESE! It's overwhelming in this chapter! If you're lactose-intolerant, turn away now!

* * *

Rehearsals for the school play began, and although Tony and I were still together, I found that I was never the one asking to hang out. He was always the instigator. If it had been entirely up to me, I would have called him my boyfriend and only seen him at school and rehearsals. With other people present.

During a rehearsal almost two weeks after my birthday, we were practicing a scene which involved lots of complicated and timed door-slamming, and I was getting a serious headache. Tony and I could just not get the timing right for the doors and that frustration combined with the constant noise was getting to me. I usually loved rehearsals, but this one just seemed to drag. When it was finally over, all I wanted was to get out, but Tony decided that it was a good time to have a conversation with me. Stupid boy.

"Claire, wait up," he called as I bolted through the auditorium doors.

I rolled my eyes so hard that it actually hurt before turning around and waiting for him. "Hey," I said.

"Don't worry about the doors, we'll get it eventually," he said. He was way too chipper.

Didn't he get that today was just one of those days to not be cheerful? My head pounded sullenly. "Yeah, I'm sure we will," I grunted.

"So Halloween's in a few days," he said.

I scowled. He was purposely leading me into this conversation. "Well, yeah. It's usually at the end of October."

Tony had adjusted over time to my sarcasm and he ignored me now. "I was wondering what your plans are for Halloween night? My little sister wants us both to take her trick-or-treating."

I was shaking my head before he'd even finished speaking. "Can't," I told him.

"Why not?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"Because I'm going to the rez that night. Annual party," I said shortly as we turned onto the main road. I realized I was walking faster than normal but I didn't feel like slowing down.

"Can't you do something different this year?" he pursued.

"Nope. It's important. I do it every year with my family."

"You mean with Quil?" Tony demanded, taking on a tone that sounded...well, sounded very much like my own.

"No, I mean with my family. But yeah, Quil's going to be there. Thought we'd moved past that," I snapped.

"Maybe we would if you didn't always choose him over me," he said.

I stopped in my tracks, putting my hands on my hips. "I do not always choose him over you."

"Yeah, actually, you do, Claire. The only time I see you is if you literally have nothing else to do, and if you're with Quil, forget about it," he replied, trying to keep his voice calm. I could tell his was actually mad at me for once, though.

"Why don't you just dump me then," I spat. "If I'm such a terrible girlfriend, maybe you should."

"I don't want to _dump_ you, Claire, I want you to understand!" he cried.

"Well, sorry, I guess I don't understand," I said, beginning to power walk away from him again. I wasn't upset because I didn't understand. I was upset because I understood far too well.

Tony ran after me. "Why won't you even listen to me?"

"Because I don't _understand_," I said coldly, throwing his words back in his face.

"I'm trying to explain it to you, so that maybe we can figure it out," he said reasonably.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just kept walking, speeding right past the drive to Tony's house.

"Claire!" he yelled, stopping in front of his house.

"What?" I screamed back, turning around.

He stared at me for a quiet moment, and I got the feeling that I was a horrible person and I would be doing him a favor by walking out of his life. "Nothing," he said finally, oddly quiet. With that, he turned around and started towards his house.

And the guilt came crashing down on me. "Tony!" I called at his retreating back. He acknowledged hearing me by waving a hand back at me but not stopping. Because my social skills suck, I simply yelled, "Fine!" and stormed off to continue home.

I got about halfway there before I started crying, and I hadn't stopped by the time I got home to find Quil and Carly waiting for me in the living room. They were sitting close together on the couch, and Quil had his arm on the back of the couch behind Carly. Not around her, but close enough. And that just made me cry harder.

They both leapt to my rescue immediately, coming to envelope me in hugs as soon as they saw my tears. "Claire, what's the matter?" Carly asked, grasping my hand.

"Do I need to kill Tony?" Quil growled as he gently wiped the tears from my face with his thumbs.

How did he _do_ that? How did he always know? "No, he's right. It's all my fault. I'm the bad one," I wailed, hiding my face by burying it into Quil's chest and snaking my arms around him tightly.

"What happened?" Carly asked again.

It suddenly didn't seem like a great idea to tell Quil that our friendship was causing problems in my relationship. I didn't want him to think it was his fault, when really, it was no one's but my own. I forced myself to get a grip. "We just got into a fight. I've just had a really rotten day and so I'm taking it hard."

"What did you fight about?" Quil asked gently, with a hint of curiosity.

"Stupid stuff. Just crap I need to work on, no biggie," I reassured him.

He didn't look very reassured. "Oh. Okay."

"Well," Carly said with a perkiness that I couldn't imagine feeling at the moment, "I hope it'll make your day better when I tell you what we're doing today."

"I don't really want to do anything today," I muttered, schlumping over to the couch and collapsing.

"Yes, you do!" Carly insisted brightly. I couldn't imagine a thing that would make me change my mind.

Quil seemed to catch her enthusiasm and said, "Because we're going Halloween costume shopping!"

I grinned. Okay, maybe I did want to do something.

The three of us squished into Quil's truck, and it was a good thing Carly and I were both small because otherwise there would have been no way we would have fit. Quil took up half the cab. I was smashed in the middle, but I comforted myself by figuring at least I was warmer this way. Although by the time we got into Port Angeles and pulled into the parking lot of the Halloween outlet store that moved in every year, my entire side up against Quil was sweating. Damn werewolves.

Halloween shopping was another annual tradition that the three of us always did together. And as such, we had a very particular routine to go about it. All three of us would go through the store separately and pick out several costumes to try on. Then we'd get three fitting rooms and try them on one at a time and show each other each one. Over the years, this became more of a game of finding the most ridiculous things to put on than of actually trying to find a costume.

As soon as we stepped into the store, I took off, calling, "Meet at the dressing rooms in fifteen minutes, suckers. Three costumes, no more, no less."

Fifteen minutes later, we had gathered by the dressing rooms, our arms full. We each stepped into our dressing rooms, which were all in a row. Carly said, "Save your favorite for last," which really meant, "Save the one you actually might buy for last."

The first I put on was a hideous tin-foil looking viking woman outfit that had me in giggles before I even had it completely on. I set the horned helmet on my head before asking, "Ready?"

"Yep," Quil answered.

"Hang on...okay, ready," Carly said.

"One...two...three!" I said, all three of us throwing the doors open and stepping out.

I took one look at Carly and felt a flash of jealousy. Could she seriously wear anything and look cute? She had on an M&M costume that was huge and round and she still looked adorable. Then I looked at Quil and snorted. He was Oscar the Grouch, complete with shiny trash can around his legs.

"Nice hat, Claire," he chuckled back at me.

"My name is Helga," I replied sternly, putting on a horrible Norse accent.

Carly erupted into giggles, and she retreated back into her dressing room, squeaking, "Next!"

My next costume was one of those absurd little French maid outfits. I'd picked it because it was something I would never actually wear. This thought was reinforced when I put it on and realized just how short and revealing it actually was. I was adjusting the petticoat that made the tiny skirt poof, as if it wasn't short enough, when Carly gave the signal that it was time to show the second round of costumes. There was no backing out of this now. I sighed and stepped out.

"Oh my God, Claire, put some pants on," Carly joke-scolded. She had donned a long, red kimono, complete with a fan and parasol.

Feeling eyes on me, I turned to look at Quil. My eyes rolled before I really noticed the way he was looking at me, because he'd decided to dress up as a giant condom.

"Royal Nights king-sized condoms, huh?" I asked skeptically. I refused to think about Quil and condoms. _Nope, Quil and sex in the same thought is not cool._

"Oh, because yours is much better?" he shot back, arching an eyebrow at me and smirking.

"I think Carly is the only sane one among us," I said, acknowledging that my sister had some common sense and taste that apparently neither Quil or I possessed. "At least both of her costumes have been legit."

"What are you talking about? Our costumes are legit!" Quil insisted.

Carly laughed. "Whatever, you guys are goofs. I'm putting my next costume on."

As soon as Carly disappeared back into her dressing room, Quil's eyes traveled unabashedly down my body, hovering languidly over the most inappropriate spots. I gaped at him for a moment. He wasn't even trying to hide it. It felt like someone had turned the heat up a few more degrees in the store, even though I wasn't exactly wearing a lot of clothes. "Ateara!" I snapped, feeling embarrassed and exposed. And warm.

His eyes returning to my face, Quil smirked and, I swear on all that is holy, he actually winked at me before returning to his own dressing room.

I stood frozen for a minute like an idiot before remembering that I had a third and final costume to try on. And a boyfriend. That was important, too. Then I winced. A boyfriend who was mad at me. I shook it off and forced myself to not think about it just then as I peeled off the skeezy maid costume and donned my last one, which I was really excited about.

"Everyone ready?" I called.

After getting affirmative answers from both Quil and Carly, we all stepped out once more. I inspected Carly first, smiling. "Tinkerbell!" she said, twirling for us and looking far prettier than anyone really had a right to be.

"Yeah, you're getting that one," I told her. We all agreed, then moved on to Quil's pick.

I gulped. Quil had chosen to be a pirate this year, and damn it all to hell if that look didn't suit him very well. The shirt he was wearing was one of those billowy ones that tied at the top, and it was showing enough of his chest that, even though I'd seen it all before, I was instantly drawn to it. And I found myself thinking about a certain thing that had happened on my birthday thanks to Embry.

"What do you think?" he asked, grinning. He knew he looked good. Smug bastard.

"I _love_ it," Carly gushed, effectively articulating how I felt about the whole thing as well. "You have to get that one. You look amazing."

I looked quickly to my sister. I tried to put as much "back the hell off my best friend" into my look as possible, but she wasn't even paying attention at me. She was too busy staring at Quil. Who, by the way, was enjoying it far too much.

"All right, how about mine?" I asked, interrupting the let's-all-admire-Quil moment that had apparently decided to take place.

"Well, we already know that's perfect," Carly said. "Honestly, it's perfect."

I grinned and looked to Quil for his opinion. He nodded in agreement. "That's the one."

"Good. I love it," I announced cheerfully, swishing my skirt with my hands. I was glad that we had come. It had made my day so much better.

Carly once again returned to her dressing room, this time to change into normal clothes. Quil caught my eye, and said, "How many times did I read that story to you when you were little?"

"A lot," I said, smiling at the memory. "Let's change back into our regular clothes and get out of here."

Quil tipped his captain's hat to me as we went to our rooms. "Good day to you, Little Red Riding Hood."

I smirked, and quoted back, "Thank you, wolf."


	15. Strange Halloween

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Fifteen: Strange Halloween  
Claire's POV

* * *

A/N: So, it's been a long time, and I'm sorry for that. Been swamped with work and school. But this chapter is epically long, so I hope it makes up for it a little bit. Anyway, I REALLY hope you like this chapter, because it's an important one. Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing, you guys. Y'all are rock stars.

* * *

"Think of the subtext, Claire," Ms. Williams, my drama teacher and director, told me. This was the umpteenth time she'd stopped the scene after being dissatisfied with my delivery. "Max," she continued, pointing at Tony, "is your very best friend. You've dabbled in romance before, but he wants much more than you. You aren't sure if you're ready or if it's even what you want, but you can't fathom hurting or losing him. Imagine how that must feel!" she cried, apparently forgetting this was a comedy.

"I don't need to imagine it," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, Miss Sparrow?" Ms. Williams called sharply, probably assuming I had said something about her. Which I had been known to do.

"Nothing," I replied. "I'll keep trying. I'm sorry, I'm a little distracted."

The truth was, I was having a hard time with the scene because I was letting real life interfere. Tony and I had agreed to take a break for a while after the argument we'd had, but the break was only two days old. It was still very awkward and painful to be around him, let alone do a scene in which he was telling me he wanted to marry me. He was doing a pretty good job of avoiding me backstage, which was frankly impressive, considering that there were only eight cast members. The only time we were making eye contact was on stage, and it always felt like a punch to my gut.

And then there _was_ the similarity between what Maggie was feeling and what I was going through with Quil. It was disconcerting to say the least. Every time we did this stupid scene, all I could think about was a constant stream of Quil. Quil had been totally supportive the last couple of days, and although I didn't appreciate the exclamation of, "It's about time," when I told him that Tony and I were on a break, he had been very punctual at getting me ice cream when demanded.

Then there was Carly, who was completely putting a damper my teenage angst by insisting I get over it in time for the annual Halloween party. She had decided that "break" meant "over." She was sweet and concerned while she said it, of course, but it's amazing how she can seem so passive and still say something that gets her point across in a heartbeat.

I went home after that suckfest of a rehearsal feeling very sorry for myself and collapsed on the couch, fully intending on remaining immobile for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I felt this plan was obvious, considering that I had not even removed my jacket or shoes before said collapsing, but Carly still came downstairs and announced, "Let's go out for dinner. All of us."

"Let's not," I grunted, my face muffled by the couch cushion it was currently pressed into.

"Claire, I'm worried about you. You need to go out and relax a little."

"I can relax here," I countered.

"You mean you can mope here," Devon said, emerging from wherever the hell he spends all his time.

I sat up and chucked a pillow at him, saying "Shut up, Devon, no one asked you."

He nonchalantly ninja-blocked the pillow and replied, "I wanna go out for dinner, too. I don't see why we should all have to stay here just because you got dumped."

"I didn't get dumped!" I cried. "We're on a _break_. And if anyone got dumped, it was Tony."

Devon rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Anyways, I already asked Mom and she said it was fine, and Carly already called Quil and he's coming over," he said with an air of superiority that I was sure would progress and get worse as he aged until my mother longed for and missed my teenage years.

"You called Quil?" I demanded, turning to Carly. "Since when are you and Quil phone buddies?" I made it sound like such a dirty thing.

"Since whenever," Carly said dismissively. "Come on, Claire. We almost never go out to eat."

"No," I insisted.

For all my protests, I was outnumbered. Quil did come over, and when my dad got home, we all went out for pizza. Because we're classy, and pizza is a big night out for us.

I whined long enough to get a small veggie pizza ordered for myself while everyone else chowed down on pepperoni. I usually sat between Carly and Quil, but tonight, Quil was in between Carly and me. I noticed this change right off the bat and wondered if it was indicative of some change in our dynamic that I had failed to notice. Carly and Quil were talking on the phone, they hung out when I wasn't around, and now our seating arrangements had changed? I swallowed hard on a bite of pizza that I had neglected to chew properly and my eyes started to water as an idea occurred to me. Was Quil slowly replacing me with Carly?

I drank some water to soothe my throat and glanced up at Quil and Carly furtively. I had been mostly absent from the dinner conversation up to now, insisting on moping no matter if we went out or stayed in. But Quil and Carly were fully engaged, laughing together and teasing Devon and talking to my parents. I started to feel the fussiness set in. Didn't they even notice the pain I was in right next to them?

Then I got a grip on myself. Of course Quil wasn't replacing me with Carly. He'd always made sure that I knew I was his best friend and his "favorite." But that was when he was still working with the imprinting. Maybe now something had changed? No, that would mean he was moving on. And Quil...wasn't moving on, right? Whether it was Carly or someone else, Quil had firmly told me that there was no possibility of anyone else taking my place. So, no. Of course Quil wasn't intending that smile he usually reserved for me to be directed at Carly. That was just a one-time thing. Yeah.

I didn't eat much more that night.

* * *

Halloween came with its usual flair. School was a drag, because even though we were allowed to dress up to come to class, nobody but the drama kids ever did, so everyone stared at me in my Little Red Riding Hood costume. Douches. It's Halloween, get a clue.

There was an awkward moment during rehearsals where Tony and I had to practice one of our kissing scenes. Usually, we got a lot of slack about working up the balls to kiss in plays, but apparently Ms. Williams had decided that we were seniors and we could just suck it up and do it. Sitting on the couch with Tony, in a scene that was supposed to be ridiculous and funny, I really missed him. He'd offered me a companionship that I had never found outside of Quil and Carly, and I'd thrown it in his face. When we actually kissed, and I was wrapped up in just how familiar someone's lips could be, I thought I might lose it. As soon as the scene ended, I made an inelegant exit off stage right.

I sat down in a dark corner backstage on a perilous pile of lumber from the stagecraft class and clutched my hands in my lap. My Little Red Riding Hood skirt was snagging on the wood, but I hardly cared. I just felt so low, without any of the angst, anxiety, or anger that usually accompanied that feeling.

To my surprise, Tony followed me offstage to my pile of wood. "Claire, I'm sorry. That was hard for me, too," he whispered, so that we wouldn't be heard from the auditorium.

"I can't believe you're being nice to me. I don't deserve it," I whispered back, and I felt a lone couple of tears slip down my cheeks.

Tony cupped my face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears. "Yeah, you do. Just give it time for both of us to cool off, and then we can see where we're at."

I closed my eyes tightly and gritted my teeth to get a hold of myself. I'd been hoping he'd say that he wanted me back right that second. It would have felt better than having him as much as admit that I'd screwed up. But I nodded. "I know. I've been an emotional mess lately, and that's even without any of the stuff between us."

Tony nodded in acknowledgement, dropping one hand from my face but leaving the other in place.

That was when Ms. Williams started screeching that I'd missed my entrance and that I needed to get my tush on stage pronto. It was a nice moment up to then.

As soon as I got home after rehearsal, Carly pounced on me, insisting on doing my hair and makeup for the party. I was feeling much better in general, since I at least knew that Tony didn't hate me, so I allowed her to drag me upstairs into the bathroom, where she had already gotten everything set up. I told Carly what had happened at rehearsal as she wielded a curling iron far too close to my head.

"Well, that's good," she said, quickly twirling a strand of my hair around the barrel of the iron. "You didn't do any permanent damage, Claire. Maybe you guys are on a break for real." She released the strand of hair and it bounced into a perfect ringlet. I could never get my own hair to do that, and it obviously wasn't my hair's fault.

"Yeah, at least there's hope," I replied.

"So you can chill and have fun at the party tonight, right?" Carly asked.

I smiled. "Yes. Now stop worrying about it, seriously. You'll develop a complex."

There was silence for a few moments, and Carly continued to curl my hair. After a few ringlets, she asked, "Are you planning on hanging out with Quil tonight?"

I furrowed my brows at the odd question. "Well, probably. I mean, I'm going to know a lot of people there as usual, so I'll be talking to lots of different people. But most of the time, I'm assuming I'll be with Quil. Like always."

"Mm," Carly murmured, her lips pursing.

"What?" I demanded. "What is 'mm?'"

She glanced up and met my eyes in the mirror, looking concerned. "Um. Well, I talked to Quil earlier today -"

"What is _up _with you guys being BFFs all of a sudden?" I asked, still feeling insecure about the thoughts that had occurred to me during pizza.

"We've always been friends, Claire."

"But you didn't used to talk on the phone and stuff," I pointed out.

"So we've grown closer. It's not a big deal," she explained, the effort of remaining patient with me apparent.

I scowled at her word choice of "closer," and felt it was very much a big deal.

"Anyway," she continued, "I talked to him earlier, and he indicated that there...might be a woman there who is interested in him."

I snorted. "Is her name Monica?"

"No, it was Ashley. Embry and Jake know her somehow, and thought that she and Quil might hit it off. So they brought her by the shop and I guess they're sort of interested in one another."

My heart felt like it had ended up in my stomach, and I was having a hard time inhaling. "He didn't tell me anything about this," I said, as if that made it impossible to be true.

Carly paused in her work on my hair. "And that surprises you?" she asked carefully.

"Why on earth would he tell you something that he kept from me?" I knew I sounded sullen and pouty, but I couldn't help it. So I had been right. And then some. Not only was Quil replacing me with Carly, but he was moving on with some girl named Ashley. No, some _woman_ named Ashley.

"Because he thought you'd freak out," Carly said pointedly and forced eye contact on me in the mirror.

"I'm not freaking out," I said hysterically. "Is he really interested in her?" This was quite possibly the worst news I'd ever heard. What if he fell in love with her and ditched me for good? We'd start hanging out less and less, until he finally left me behind. For good. I was full-on panicing.

Carly shrugged in a way that said yes but she was trying to pretend she wasn't sure. "He only had good things to say on the phone about her. I guess she's really pretty."

If it was possible, my insides sank lower. "Did he say that?"

Carly nodded silently.

I swallowed hard. I couldn't recall Quil having ever said a woman was pretty. I was shit out of luck if this Ashley woman was pretty. I couldn't compete. It made me physically ill to think of Quil being really attracted to someone else. I had grown secure in the fact that Quil was mine, and even though that made me feel guilty, I couldn't deny that I had come to like it. Having Quil around had always made me feel good, and in some weird way, I'd begun to like the fact that he was sort of attached to me. But now I wasn't so sure he was.

"And she's going to be there tonight?" I asked in a voice that sounded strangled.

Carly nodded again and resumed work on my hair.

"Why would they invite her? This is for family and the pack only!" I grumbled, latching onto the only semi-logical argument against having her there. "It always has been!"

"That's not true. It's never been an issue to have other people there," Carly replied.

"But she doesn't know about the pack!" I argued, hoping desperately that this was true. What would I do if Quil had already told her something that took him fifteen years to tell me?

"So? We didn't know until this year. It's not like they change into wolves every five minutes. They keep it quiet," Carly said reasonably.

Sometimes I wanted to strangle her and make her side with me no matter how irrational I was being. I played with a ringlet in silence for a minute and took several deep breaths to calm down, then asked, "Would it be wrong for me to purposefully sabotage this?"

"Yes."

I sighed. "Would you be mad if I did it anyway?"

"Yes. At least you can admit you're jealous, though. That's progress."

"I never said I was jealous," I clarified. "I merely stated that I was unhappy with Quil's...um...romantic prospects." I swallowed the ill feeling again.

"...with anyone but you," Carly added with a small smile. "Claire, you haven't even met her. Since you were the one who said no to the imprint and started dating someone else, you can't get upset when Quil has a chance at being happy. I thought you _wanted _him to date."

I wanted to _say_ I wanted him to date, and for him to refuse. But I didn't admit that. "Okay. I'll meet her tonight, and -"

"And you'll be civil," she interrupted.

"-and I'll be civil," I conceded. "I will reserve judgement for now." Yeah, right. Even I didn't believe myself.

The rest of our getting ready process went smoothly, and my costumed family piled in the car. My dad had dressed in a Star Trek captain's uniform, of which I fully approved. My mom had decided a disco costume was a good idea, which I approved less of. And Devon had dressed as Mario, and our cousin Matt, Sam and Emily's son, was going to be Luigi.

We arrived at Sam and Emily's house about half an hour late, and there were already tons of people there. The porch had been lined with jack-o-lanterns, some which had obviously been done by their kids, and some which had obviously been done by Sam, who took these things way too seriously and turned his pumpkins into works of art. Emily had gone all out on the decorations both inside and out, and as soon as we walked in the front door we were met by the contradicting sounds of the creepy music she had playing and the laughter of the guests.

A group of 1920's style gangsters was near the door and they turned to greet us. Leah was the apparent leader of the group, with Embry, Jake, and Seth as her henchmen. There were pinstripes and fedoras everywhere, and Leah looked like some kind of exotic supermodel.

As the more normal group members greeted my family, Embry scooped me up into a bear hug, which I did not return. I blamed him and Jake for introducing this mystery woman into Quil's life, and I was fully prepared to hold a grudge. He appeared too stupid to notice my cold shoulder, and proceeded to carry me into the center of the room, where several family and pack members were. My eyes zoned in within a second on Quil standing in the corner with his back towards me, chatting up a very pretty young woman while he leaned against the wall with one arm like some lame movie teen hunk leaning against lockers.

"Look what I found!" Embry cried, lifting me up higher for the whole room to see. I really hate him sometimes. "It's Little Red Riding Hood!"

At this outburst, the whole room turned too look, including Quil and the woman he was talking to. I was pleased by how quickly Quil turned around to see me.

"Embry, I feel debased just for knowing you exist," I muttered, sure all the wolf ears in the room would hear it, even over the creepy music. Sure enough, there were a couple of poorly muffled snorts, one coming from Quil, as the non-wolfs looked on in confusion. I was pleased to see the new woman, who had to be Ashley, looked as confused as any. Good. I knew something she didn't know. It made me feel better.

Embry finally got the hint and put me down, and I scampered a safe distance away before I turned to him to glare, and the room slipped back into normal conversation. "I hate you a little bit," I told him.

He didn't seem concerned. "I'm sure you do," he giggled.

"Wipe that smile off of your face," I snapped. "You should be afraid of me. I could kill you and make it look like an accident." My boasting was useless, but threatening Embry had always been a favorite pastime of mine.

"I don't know the meaning of the word fear!" Embry exclaimed.

"You don't know the meaning of lots of words, but I don't hold that against you. Don't worry." I then flounced away before he could come up with a come back and ruin my moment.

I once again zeroed in on Quil, who had turned his back to me again to talk to Ashley. I started over, ready to forget my promise to Carly to be civil, but Emily intercepted me.

Emily was dressed as Cinderella, and I was fairly certain I had an uncle dressed as Prince Charming running around somewhere to match. She enveloped me in a hug and while her mouth was near my ear, she whispered so low even the wolves couldn't have heard it, "Don't ruin it for him. I've supported and defended you with your decision, but if you turn this into an ordeal, it'll all mean nothing, honey."

I froze. Emily released me from the hug and smiled at me, as if she hadn't just said something so emotionally-charged. I hadn't realized that she'd been my advocate through all of this, but it didn't surprise me. And she was right. If I pitched a fit about Quil having a woman here, it would only make me look stupid in front of all the people I cared about. "I wasn't going to," I defended myself.

Emily quirked an eyebrow at me and smiled like she knew better. "Just be good. There's always time to discuss it later, but now certainly isn't the time."

I forced a smile back at her and nodded to let her know I understood. Because she was right. When I turned back towards Quil and Ashley, it was with forced calm. Quil turned as I approached and grinned at me from beneath his captain's hat. He looked as good as he had in the costume shop. It was depressing. "Hey, Claire!" he greeted me warmly.

I felt sick to my stomach. He was acting like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn't been talking to Carly instead of me; like he wasn't flirting with another woman right in front of me. The idea that maybe there really wasn't anything wrong with these things made me feel even more ill. "Hey," I said back, wishing I could pull my red hood up and over my face and then retreat.

"Claire, this is Ashley. Embry and Jake know her. Ashley, this is my friend, Claire," Quil introduced us.

Friend. Right. It's not like he could say that I was the girl he imprinted on because he was a werewolf, but I didn't want him. That would be awkward. Although how anything could have been more awkward than it already was, I didn't know. I forced a smile again and really inspected Ashley as she shook my hand politely. She was several inches taller than me, with long light brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She was not drop dead gorgeous, but she was the kind of woman you would look twice at in the mall or something. She was wearing an Alice in Wonderland costume, and she looked to be about twenty five years old. My heart was doing its sinking act again, but I kept the smile on my face.

"Nice to meet you," I managed.

Unlike when I met Monica, Ashley did not condescend me and ask my age or why Quil and I were friends. She was nice, seemed intelligent, and cracked a couple of quick jokes that I would have found hilarious had we not been in the situation we were in. I actually liked her. And that made it worse.

I excused myself quickly after the third time Quil gave her "my" grin. That grin seemed to be much less discriminatory lately. I escaped towards the kitchen, where the back door was open and letting in fresh air to keep the crowded house cool. It was downright chilly right near the door, but it was better than being in the over-warm living room with Quil and his new soul mate who was an obvious upgrade over me.

Sitting in the doorframe facing outside, I took several deep breaths of fresh air. I could do this. I had Tony. Kind of. But it wasn't like I was _totally_ alone. And there was no evidence to support my theory of Quil abandoning me, other than his sudden preference for talking to Carly instead of me. My breath hitched. This sucked hardcore. I was losing my best friend, and I couldn't do anything about it. He was happy and that was all that should matter.

I forced myself to get up after a few minutes. I had to get through this, because Quil deserved to be happy. I would go in there and be nice and happy, and Quil would never know anything was wrong. I walked back to the door between the kitchen and the living room, and paused in the doorframe for a moment. Quil and Ashley had moved to sit on the couch, huddled too closely together and smiling. I turned right back around and returned to my spot by the back door.

I spent the next hour and a half in the kitchen alone, only disturbed by wayward partygoers in search of refreshments, and my brother at one point deciding it was a good idea to throw a fake spider at me and make me scream. I chased him off and told him the boogeyman only ate bratty little brothers on Halloween. Whose names started with D.

I started out sad and depressed. But the more time that passed without Quil coming to see what was wrong, the more hurt and angry I began to feel. Did he seriously not care about me at all? Even when I was dating Tony, I still spent time with Quil and paid attention to him. He had known Ashley for a few days and was already ignoring me completely. For all he knew, I was dying somewhere and he didn't even care.

Then the whole herd came into the kitchen to go out through the back door to the bonfire. I moved from the back door to the kitchen table to get out of their way. All the smiling and laughing as they streamed outside failed to make me happy. Quil stopped and waved Ashley on to go ahead. By this time, my emotions had fully evolved into being pissed off.

"Where have you been, Claire?" he asked, his face concerned. "I haven't seen you since you first came and talked."

"In here," I said simply, not looking at him. I crossed my arms across my chest. It had taken him way too long to notice I was gone. I could make myself deal with him liking someone, but not if he abandoned our friendship in the process. It infuriated me.

"What's the matter?" he pressed.

"Nothing," I insisted, my voice clipped.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked helpfully.

"Nope," I said, and it was obvious I mean the opposite.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, sitting down at the table with me.

I shook my head. "Nope," I repeated.

He looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but then thought better of it. "Well, let's get out to the bonfire," he said, trying to be cheerful.

I didn't respond for a minute. I could give him another chance. I mean, the dude had hung out with me for the last fifteen years. He was probably just really excited about Ashley because it had been so long. And that made me sad, but maybe I didn't have to be angry about it. I sighed. "You go ahead. I'll be out in a minute," I finally said.

Quil nodded and shot me a grin, which made my heart hurt. He tipped his captain's hat to me, stood, and went outside after the rest of the pack.

I got up from the table a minute later and crossed to the refrigerator. I grabbed a soda and headed outside toward the bonfire, walking slowly. I was just deciding that I should chill out once again and force my way through this when I got a good look at Quil and Ashley. They were seated next to each other by the fire that Sam had gotten going. They were whispering together, looking cozy. I slowed my pace down to a snail's crawl to observe. And then Quil reached up and tucked a strand of Ashley's long, pretty hair behind her ear. I could see her smile.

In that one second, I think I went completely insane with jealous fury. All I could think of was that Quil had always liked to play with my hair, and it was not okay for him to touch Ashley's. The sadness and dejectedness were completely overshadowed by this anger, and I was about to explode. I literally wanted to go ballistic. Without thinking about it, I turned on my heel and stormed away from the bonfire and away from the house. I didn't want to see anyone or have to explain to anyone where I was going. I didn't want to talk. I marched along the beach until I came to the beginning of the woods. At some point, I must've thrown my soda can down in a fit, because I lost track of it.

I headed straight into the trees, only wanting to get somewhere where I could freak out and scream and kick things in peace. Several minutes of angry marching later, I realized I wasn't sure where I was or where I was going. I slowed down a bit and looked around. It was dark with the trees blocking the moon, and I was actually impressed I hadn't tripped over something that I couldn't see. I finally came to a complete stop. I had no idea how far I'd gone into the woods. Or which way was out. I was only sure that I was in the dark woods on Halloween.

My anger abated for the moment as I realized that I had serious judgement issues. How had I deemed it a good idea to wander off in the middle of the night? On Halloween, of all nights. I wasn't superstitious, but if werewolves can exist, what else ran around in these trees?

I muttered an expletive and turned to look back at the way I'd come. Had I managed to go in a straight line from the beach? I figured it was worth a shot, and started going back along the path I thought I'd taken, hoping I could find my way out. Angry and safe was better than angry and lost.

After only a couple minutes went by, I thought I heard something behind me. I froze in place and listened, but there was nothing but the wind moving the branches. I shivered and pulled my thin little cape around my shoulders, wishing that I would have used my brain for once and brought a coat. Or, you know, just not have gotten lost in the woods at all.

I started walking again, but I didn't get far before I thought I heard something again. It sounded like a twig snapping, off to my right. I turned in that direction and squinted into the dark. "Hello?" I called tentatively. I stood stock still for a moment, straining to hear something. Nothing. "Yeah, like a monster would say 'hello' back," I muttered. I still had the heebie jeebies. "Get a grip, Claire. Spooky woods, no biggie," I chastised myself. But just as I was about to start walking again, I heard another twig snap, much closer to me than before, only on my left now, and this time there was no mistaking that I'd heard something.

I spun around and screamed before clamping hands over my mouth to try to remain quiet. It was a futile effort. I was near tears. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod," I whispered rapidly, my panic rising as I stared near-blindly into the darkness, searching for the source of the sound. I could _feel_ something watching me. Oh dammit, why had I wandered into the woods? I was an idiot. I was on Idiot Honor Roll. Was this what survival of the fittest meant? If you're a big enough dumbass to wander off into the woods in the middle of the night by yourself, you deserve to die?

I stood as still as is possible when you're hyperventilating and debated whether or not to just flat out make a run for it. After all, I was pretty sure I was far enough away from Emily's that even if I screamed and screamed, no one would hear. No, I couldn't run from it, I didn't know where it was! What if I ran right into it?

Then I heard a deep chuckle emanate from the woods directly behind me. I shrieked again and broke in an attempt to flee. I didn't get more than three steps before arms wrapped around me tightly and pulled me back. I screamed bloody murder, fighting and flailing. It was useless. I had been literally picked up off the ground by my captor, who was far too strong for me to fight. I kept trying. Until it registered in my panic-stricken brain that whoever was holding me was laughing. A very. Familiar. Laugh.

My screams and movements became less frantic and petered out as I processed this. I looked down at the arms holding me against my will to see that they were encased in frilly ass pirate sleeves.

My utter terror switched to utter rage in no time flat.

I twisted myself around to look Quil in the face. He was still laughing hysterically and released me to facilitate his need to clutch his side. "Oh, man! You should've see your _face_!" he wheezed.

The anger I'd felt at the party, which was my whole reason for leaving in the first place, had been increased tenfold by this stunt. "Are you kidding me?" I bit out, over-articulating each word.

Quil couldn't manage an answer through his laughter.

"You realize I'm not laughing, right? I was freaking out. I was terrified," I said, and finally some of the pure venom in my voice seemed to get through his thick skull.

Reigning his amusement in to a shit-eating grin, Quil replied, "It was a joke, Claire, and you were only scared for like ten seconds. Happy Halloween!" When I just continued to glare, he attempted to explain himself, "I saw you leaving the party and wanted to know what was up. The opportunity presented was too great to pass up. You seemed bummed out, and I thought you needed a good scare."

I let out a furious grunt-hmph noise, lacking a better way to express just how much I wanted to dismember him.

"Where _are_ you going so early, Little Red Riding Hood?" he asked, looking like the damn cat that ate the damn canary.

He still thought he was hilarious. If he thought he could ignore me for another girl at the party and then pull this kind of crap without even apologizing, he was dumber than previously thought. Like, on par with Embry now. I started to storm away from him. "Home," I replied shortly.

"Aw, play along, Claire."

"No. Not after you scared the shit out of me." And you replaced me.

"It was a joke! It's Halloween!" he defended, trotting after me.

"It was stupid," I snapped. "Go. Away. Talking to me right now isn't going to make your case any better."

"If it were the other way around and you'd scared me, you would think it was funny," he pouted.

"Yeah, like that would ever happen. I can't sneak up on someone with _dog_ hearing, remember?" I said, fully intending it to sound insulting. I plowed on through the trees, even though I had no idea where I was going.

He stopped following me. "You're overreacting."

I didn't stop forging ahead. "And you're an asshat," I quipped back under my breath.

"I can hear you, remember?" he called. "_Dog_ hearing."

"Good!" I shouted back. "I'm glad you heard that! Dog!" I was descending quickly into childishness, but I couldn't recall a time I'd been so blindly furious at Quil before.

"At least dogs have a sense of humor," he snapped, instantly dropping to meet my new low level of debate.

I whirled around to face him, twenty yards away. "Doesn't matter. You're a freak of nature." I hadn't called anyone a freak of nature since I was eight. At least Quil actually _was_ one.

"And I feel all the fun oozing out of my life every time you come around all menstrual and shit," he shot right back.

"Douchetard! I am not _menstrual_!"

"What's your excuse then?" he demanded. With every volley back and forth, we were each taking steps closer to each other and our argument was getting more and more embarrassingly pathetic.

"I don't need an excuse. Being around you for extended periods of time is enough of a reason," I said, my eyes bugging out of my head with my anger.

"Yeah, you're just a ray of sunshine to be around," he replied. "What are you so damn upset about? You've been M.I.A. and/or moody all night!"

"You should_ know_ what I'm upset about," I said viciously, finally kind of, sort of getting to the point. "If you really were my best friend, you would _know_. But apparently your powers of observation are akin to that of the bird that repeatedly slams into a window trying to get at that other bird it keeps seeing." We were only a few feet away from each other now, shouting and gesticulating wildly in an attempt to out-peacock one another.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked through gritted teeth.

I was momentarily distracted by his jaw line popping out like that. "Nothing," I hissed, hoping he hadn't notice me pause. "Go back to the party, Quil, you seemed to have a bigger fan there than you do in me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

We were full on in each others' faces now, and his hot breath blew in my face. For a dog, his breath didn't smell nearly foul enough. Whatever. He could go back and flirt away the night for all I cared. Dogface. Replace me, whatever. I didn't need this shit.

"It's not supposed to mean anything. I had no idea you had a girlfriend, though. It would have been cool if you'd have told me that, but I guess Carly is just as good as me, right?"

"A girlfriend?" he said. "I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to be interested in Ashley, Claire. You don't have any say over that. Besides, she's not even my girlfriend. But maybe this is why I told Carly and not you."

That stung. "Yeah, yeah, okay," I said, at once both antagonistically and dismissively.

"You're unbelievable," he spat. "I can't even believe this right now. Embry told me you'd be jealous, but I thought you had a little more integrity than _this_. You told me you _wanted_ me to date."

"What is your problem?" I bit out, ignoring the jealousy comment. I had no idea how I could refute that at this point.

"What is _my_ problem?" he echoed incredulously.

"Don't ask me. I don't know. I bet it's hard to pronounce, though," I clipped. I was pushing him. And for a very specific, very irrational reason. For the first time in my life, I was purposely making Quil mad, just so I could watch all of his muscles tense in fury. And oh, man, was it working.

"My problem is really simple actually," he replied. His fists were clenching, causing his biceps to bulge beneath the flowy fabric of his stupid pirate shirt. I wanted to reach out and touch. And at the same time I wanted to punch him in his stupid face.

Instead, I moved away from him, leaning back against the trunk of a huge tree and plastering a sneer on my face. I crossed my arms. "I would love to know, then." My voice had reached a new level of utter snottiness, and I knew I was being stupid, but I felt so infuriated and jealous and the fact that Quil had to be so goddamn hot made me angrier still.

"And I would be happy to tell you," Quil said in a low voice and took a menacing step towards me again.

My breath caught in my throat as he placed his hands against the tree on either side of my head, towering over me and blocking any potential escape route I had. I hoped it didn't show on my face. I stuck my chin out at him indignantly.

"The only _problem_ I have," he told me, "is you."

I made the mistake of breathing and all I could smell was pine and rain and sunshine, and I wanted to taste it. I fought furiously against that thought. "Then why don't you fix it by getting the hell out of my life?" I spat.

"Because my problem can only be fixed by you, dammit," he went on impatiently, ripping his hat off his head and hurling it at the ground. There were few times that I could think of when Quil and I were fighting where he was as angry as I was. But he definitely was now.

"What the _hell_ does that mean?" I demanded, and my voice wavered with anger.

"It means that the only thing I want is to kiss you and _make you mine_, and you won't _fucking_ let me," Quil hissed, bringing a fist down on the tree trunk so hard it made the entire massive trunk shake. He sounded so predatory in that moment that I felt a rush of adrenaline kick through my stomach.

Then his lips crashed against mine, demanding and wanting and taking. I kissed him back equally, tangling my fingers in his short hair and pulling. Our tongues were waging a war for dominance and I honestly didn't know who would win.

Then Quil brought one hand along my cheek, up, up, and then tucked my hair behind my ear.

The rage, which had been replaced with lust somewhere along the line, suddenly returned full force as I remembered him doing the same damn thing to Ashley, which had pitched me into this fit in the first place. My eyes flew open and I disentangled one of my hands from his hair to smack him upside the head as forcefully as I could. It hurt my hand, which quickly went numb.

The kiss broke at the sudden impact. Quil's eyes met mine, full of anger and confusion but mostly just black with want, and instead of letting me go, he growled from deep in his throat and pulled me by my upper arms tightly against his body. Which was really a much better idea anyway.

He kissed me again and this time I practically climbed his body in an attempt to get closer. Fortunately, Quil was completely cool with that and helped lift me up to wrap my legs around his waist, his hand supporting me beneath my butt. All thoughts of the other woman left my head. After all, he hadn't done _this_ with her, had he? What even was her name, again?

How could the world stop from kisses? Albeit very hot kisses, but still. All I could hear was blood rushing in my ears, and all I could smell and taste was Quil. I guess all that I was feeling made up for the sudden restriction on my other senses. Because I was feeling so much.

Pinned between Quil's body in front and the tree on my back, the bark was digging into my skin in the most wonderful way. Quil's mouth left mine and at first I was greatly disappointed, but he redeemed himself by kissing down my jaw, along my neck. I dug my nails into his shoulders and he responded by biting lightly along my collarbone. "Quil," I gasped. Tony had never kissed me like this. Nor had I wanted him to.

His fingers tightened at the sound of his name. "Hmm?" he murmured indistinctly, not bothering to remove his mouth from my body.

I couldn't think of anything to say other than, "It feels good." I hadn't known just how badly my body wanted him, no matter how much my mind fought it.

He smirked against my skin, the smug bastard. Lifting me away from the tree, he lowered us to the ground, to where he was kneeling and I was straddling him and all the while wishing to be closer. I should have been freezing in the woods on Halloween like that, but I was burning up. And so was Quil.

I leaned forward, nuzzling along his jawline. Upon reaching his ear, I hesitantly bit his earlobe. Quil let out the most delicious groaning noise, and I felt a sudden rush at the power I had to make him make that sound. I sucked his earlobe into my mouth. Quil responded by using his hands on my hips to pull me more tightly against him, and I forgot what I was doing as a wave of heat shot through me like lightning, only to then settle in the pit of my stomach and simmer. That was sure as hell new.

"God dammit, Claire," he muttered huskily, burying his face into my shoulder. As much as I liked how my name sounded when it was said like that, by him, it also gave me a ladder to come back down to earth. A really, really tall ladder. But I forced myself on it just the same, and then began to panic.

A scared, confused feeling began flooding in and forcing the lust out. The second it started to happen, I knew Quil could tell. His grip on me immediately loosened and became tentative. I wanted to scream at him to just kiss me again, because that made me forget, but I couldn't.

We both sort of just stopped moving, breathing heavily. After several long moments, I shifted in his lap so that I was no longer straddling him. I removed my arms from around his neck and instead buried my face in my hands. "Oh, my God," I muttered, my whole body shaking as I realized what had just happened.

Quil finally moved, wrapping his arms around my and pulling me into a careful hug. "I'm so sorry, Claire. I didn't mean to – I didn't – I shouldn't have done that."

"It isn't your fault. Stop it," I said. My emotions were swirling wildly out of my control, and I couldn't figure out how to feel. All I was sure of was that I was completely and utterly confused. And maybe terrified. Not in a something-creeping-up-on-you-in-the-dark way, but an different fear entirely. That fear that comes when you realize you have to reevaluate everything you'd been so sure of.


	16. Choices

Quil Ateara and the Impossible Claire  
Chapter Sixteen: Choices  
Claire's POV

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A/N: I'm posting this a day or two after I meant to, but I wasn't happy with it. I'm still not sure about it, but...we'll see. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks!

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I was frozen in Quil's lap, trying to get my brain to work. My thoughts skittered upon, "Pretend it didn't happen, it'll go back to normal," and refused to move beyond that.

After several long minutes, Quil cleared his throat, startling me out of the circuitous thinking I'd been doing.

"So...what now?" Quil asked.

I removed my hands from my face to look at him. "What do you mean?"

He blinked. "What do you mean, 'what do you mean?'"

Productive conversation. "I mean, what are you asking? Are you asking about whether we're going to move and go back to the party? Are you asking -"

"Claire," he deadpanned, shutting me up. "You know what I'm asking."

I sighed and plunked my head back down in my hands. "I don't know," I muttered.

Quil tensed. "You don't know," he echoed, more of a statement than a question.

I shook my head.

"Claire, stop covering your face and look at me," he said in a low voice.

My head shot up at his tone. "Are you mad at me?" I asked, feeling a twinge of indignation.

Quil gently pushed me off of his lap so that he could stand, but he might as well have shoved me forcefully. It would've felt the same emotionally. He began pacing, looking agitated. "Please explain what you mean by 'I don't know,'" he said, his voice both restrained and pleading.

I stood up as well, brushing my costume off. "I mean that – that I don't know what comes next. I don't know what to do."

"How do you feel about me, Claire?" he demanded, waving his hand in dismissal at my statements.

My eyes seemed intent on looking at the ground. I scuffed my toe in the dirt awkwardly. "You know how I feel about you," I said quietly.

It wasn't a real answer, and Quil knew it. "No, I really don't know how you feel about me. You think _you're_ confused? You have no idea," he said rapidly.

"That's not fair. I really am confused," I retorted. "I don't know what I want."

He stopped pacing to stare at me. "You don't know what you want. That just happened, and you don't know what you _want_?" he exclaimed incredulously. "You know what isn't _fair_? Seeing all my friends imprint on women their own age and being happier than anything. And then I imprinted on a toddler. You know how you felt when I told you about that? Imagine how I felt when it happened. I was so disgusted with myself that I almost ran away. But I couldn't. I couldn't run away from you, even then." As he spoke, his voice slowly devolved from anger to a kind of hurt sadness.

I couldn't have formed words even if I'd tried. This side of Quil's imprinting had never been revealed to me, and hearing it made me feel queasy. I thought maybe he was done, but he wasn't.

"So I stayed. And pretty soon, I started to get over it. Sam helped me see that I wasn't a bad person for imprinting on you, and I realized that he was right. All I wanted was to be a big brother to you. I just wanted to spoil you and make you laugh and protect you from everything. I had to talk to your parents, which, I bet you can imagine, was just...awesome. Emily wasn't too pleased with me either at first. And every time I shifted, I had to listen to Leah call me a pedophile. It really sucks when someone as angry as Leah used to be knows just what to say to hurt you, since she's in your head all the time." He shook his head, trying to shake off the memories. "So yeah, I stayed. But then I had to wait. Which I was willing to do, remember, but that doesn't mean it was easy. I had to wait and wait, and all the while, everyone around me was changing and experiencing new things, while I was frozen in place. I didn't want to leave you behind, so I almost stopped living. I feel like I haven't really grown in over ten years because I've been waiting for you to catch up."

I shut my eyes against his words and felt several tears spill down my cheeks. I hadn't even been aware I was crying.

Quil ran a shaky hand through his hair, and continued, "And I did all of it because I loved you so much. If I never went to college like Leah and Jared did, it was okay, because I got to be there on your seventh birthday. If I never went on dates and stuff like Embry, it didn't bother me, because I got to take you to the beach. If I never traveled like Jake, who cares? I had you. And I knew – I was _positive_ – that someday, we would have adventures for ourselves."

Finally finding my voice, I opened my eyes again and squeaked, "Quil."

"I mean, even when you were a kid, you were a pain in the ass," he interrupted, barreling on as if he didn't hear me, "so I was kind of prepared for some difficulties. But nothing like this. I never expected you to just reject me. And see, I feel it so strongly, I don't even get how you don't. So that, and then you kiss me like that, yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm at least as confused as you are." He stopped speaking abruptly.

Silence fell between us as I unwillingly absorbed everything he had just said. After a while, I whispered, "I didn't realize you had given up so much for me."

Quil lowered himself into a crouching position, with his elbows propped on his knees to cradle his face in his hands, much like I had been doing. "I would give everything for you, Claire. I just don't know if I have much more to give. It kills me every time you say you don't know what you want."

"I'm so sorry," I murmured, unable to think of anything else to say.

He stood up again, visually struggling to get himself under control, and changed the subject a bit. "Ashley is nothing, by the way. She's a friend of Jake's. We recruited her just to make you jealous."

I couldn't even get angry that he'd tried to manipulate me. "It worked," I acknowledged quietly.

"Carly was in on it, too. That's why I've been talking to her so much. You don't have to worry about that," he said.

No matter how concerned I'd been about Carly and Quil before, it failed to make me feel any better to hear this now. I was still reeling over all that Quil had said, and it was making me feel like the lowest life form on the planet.

"I'm sorry we did all that," he added, looking at me with damn puppy dog eyes. "It was wrong."

I shook my head. "Please. Don't apologize."

Another silence fell, this one awkward. I felt like I ought to say something, ought to do something, but I couldn't move. I wanted to hug Quil and hold him and let him hold me until everything was better again, but I felt like I no longer had the right to do so. I didn't deserve him. A new wave of tears constricted my throat, and a small sob managed to escape from me.

In a heartbeat, Quil was by my side, cupping my face in his warm hands. I looked up into his concerned face, feeling more undeserving than ever. "Quil, I'm so sorry," I said, my breath hitching.

He still looked concerned, but he also seemed to brace himself. It took me a moment to figure out that he was preparing to be rejected again.

Another wave of hurt rocketed through me at that realization. "I ruined your life the moment you met me," I sobbed, my vision blurring to the point that I could no longer clearly distinguish his facial expressions. It didn't matter anyway, as he pulled me into his arms, letting me cry into his pirate shirt.

"Claire, you didn't ruin my life," he murmured quietly.

"Yes I did!" I wailed, my anguish growing. "How can you even deny it? I never could have deserved having you in my life. You've been everything to me, and I've done nothing for you in return."

"That isn't true," he said reassuringly, making me feel worse. "Please don't say that."

A sudden, overwhelming desire to get out of the woods overcame me. It was irrational, but my logic had come to a standstill under all the emotion, and getting out of the woods seemed to be the most important thing in that moment. All I could think was that it was too dark and crowded-feeling. "I want to get out of the trees. They're making me claustrophobic," I pleaded into his chest.

Quil just said, "Okay." He scooped me up to be cradled in his arms and took off, running more quickly and smoothly than any normal human could. As he ran, I tried to formulate coherent thoughts again. There was a constant thought that I didn't deserve Quil in my life, along with the aching guilt that consumed me. I was having a hard time beyond that.

After a few minutes, we emerged from the woods, breaking out onto the moonlit beach, far away from any houses. A tiny, old dock that had been long abandoned was jutting into the water, and Quil carried me to the end of it before setting me down. I sat down with my feet dangling off the edge, and Quil did the same. A cold ocean breeze swept up along the beach and chilled me to my bones, but before I could so much as shiver, Quil's arm was around me like a heated blanket. I swallowed over another lump in my throat.

We both sat on the dock processing everything for a long time. I was grateful that he wasn't asking me any more questions, because I was only just beginning to come to any answers.

The endless October sky and the rhythmic pulse of the ocean instilled me we a sense of peace and infinity that I only ever found at the sea. I don't know how long we sat there, but the Big Dipper had visibly moved in the night sky by the time I was prepared to speak.

"Quil?" I said quietly.

He shifted his eyes from the waves to me. In that moment, he looked both young and old, timeless. Light-hearted but so sad. He was exquisite. I stared openly at him, the moon reflected back at me in his huge brown eyes, until he prompted me. "Yeah?"

I blinked, remembering once again that there were things that needed to be said. "Please just listen to me for a minute, okay?"

He nodded, allowing his arm around me to drop as I shifted to face him better. I quickly reached out and grasped his fallen hand in both of mine.

"I know I should have, but I really never thought about what it must have been like for you all this time. I know I'm selfish, but that's a new low, even for me," I said, my voice shaking at first but gaining strength.

"Claire, I told you -" he started, but I stopped him.

"You promised to let me talk. Otherwise, I might never get it out right," I said, a hint of begging in my tone. He nodded again, and I took a deep breath before I went on. "I'm so grateful to have had you in my life growing up. I – I can't even – I don't _want_ to imagine what my life would have been like without you. And I hope you'll never leave my life, either."

A pained look crossed his face, and I knew he was imagining going through his entire life like the last few weeks had been. It hurt me to see, and I wondered if it wouldn't be better for me to just let him go now, but I had to keep going.

My stomach was twisting with nerves and emotion. I took another breath to steady myself and said, "I know I don't deserve you and everything you've done and do for me. I'm so sorry. It makes me feel like I'm dying to know that you did so much and I've ignored all the things you've gone through and given up. I'm so sorry. I know you don't want me to say so, but I'm still so scared that you would have been better off never having met me."

Quil's hand squeezed mine gently as a way of reassurance, rather than interrupting me. I squeezed back, clinging to his hand with everything I had.

"I just – I don't want to ruin everything. I don't want to make a mistake. You've always been too important for me; I've felt like I couldn't mess up with you because you meant too much. I've been afraid and confused and angry. I thought my biggest decision this year would be where I go to school, not if I'd start dating my werewolf soul mate.

"And that was part of it too, you know? The decision part. You know how important it is to me to be able to have a choice, and I didn't feel like I had one. I didn't like feeling like I had to, or that I couldn't do anything else, or that _you_ had to..." I stopped for a moment, realizing I was rambling. "I really want to be able to choose who I love."

Quil winced, but nodded. "I know you want to choose, Claire," he said.

I shook my head to shush him again. "No, listen. All this time, sitting here, I've been thinking. I thought about lots of things. I thought about, if I could choose my perfect guy, if I could like, make him out of thin air with all the qualities I wanted, what I would want. I would want someone who would be there for me, who could talk sense into me when I needed it without making me feel stupid. Someone who was smart and who could make me laugh. Someone who could argue with me and hold his own, someone who realized that I need a lot of constant reassurance, someone who would put up with me and love me anyway. Someone who, when I was with them, I felt like home." I looked down at our hands, still entwined. "Then I realized you're all of those things."

I licked my lips nervously and met his eyes again. "I want to be able to choose who to be with, but now I know I'd choose you. If I just met you today, you would be it."

Quil swallowed audibly, his eyes searching mine, begging me to get to the point.

My heart was pounding in my ears. "I'm trying to say...I want to choose, and I have a choice. And I choose you."

My words seemed to freeze in the air, hanging between us, as Quil stared back at me, blatantly surprised. "What?" he asked after a moment.

"I choose you," I repeated, then decided that maybe my wording was the problem. "I want to try being with you."

Apparently my wording wasn't the problem, because again, Quil said, "What?" He was continuing to stare at be with a blank look, brows furrowed in confusion.

I half-smiled. "I don't know how else to say it...?"

He shook his head violently, not left to right like a man, but rapidly tilting it side to side like a dog. I would've laughed, except that I was about to explode from nerves. He needed to say something. Stat.

"Quil?" I asked. "Do you understand?"

He gaped at me a moment longer, then a grin slowly spread across his face. "I understand, I just don't believe it."

I laughed out of relief.

"You're serious, right? You won't like, change your mind tomorrow?" he asked, and it made my heart ache a bit to see how scared he was that I would do exactly that.

"No," I replied. When he still looked like he had doubts, I leaned over and hovered a centimeter away from his lips. "Believe it," I whispered, before bringing my lips to his.


End file.
